Dream Catcher
by QueenofDoomydoom
Summary: Chell has never gotten over Wheatley's betrayal and suffers nightmares nearly every night. She copes by writing them down in a journal. But Wheatley has come back into her life and is compelled to read it. But soon he becomes obsessed with stopping them. But can he calm her fears and control his desire that's so close to the Itch? ChellxHuman/Wheatley
1. Chapter 1

A/N: I haven't written anything in a while and this is my first Portal fic. Please forgive me if it is horrible. I'd like to thank Suihanki for the support.

Wheatley hated this. Every time he had to do it he was a nervous wreck. Whether it be from the fear of being discovered or the dread of what he might find, it was enough to almost turn around and forget about that room. But when her saw the circles under her eyes again he knew that wasn't an option. He had to know what he did to her. How did he kill her this time?

 _August 12_

 _I was getting tired. My legs ached, my arms were tired from holding the ASHPD. Not that I cared about that. I held onto it for dear life because it could mean my life. At least the metal eyball wasn't heavy in the anti-gravitation field. Wheatley was asking me something... Was I alright? Yes. SHE is dead. She is dead and I am leaving. Not only was I going to escape the facility but the fact I was't going to be alone in doing so was just icing on the metaphoric cake. I can't quit remember what he was saying for most of the duration but I do remember him turning to me, his blue optic shining in my face._

 _"Are you sure you're not tired?" His voice was such a welcome distraction from the other slight noises in the facility. It was the first voice I heard that didn't sound as if it belonged to a machine. I never realised how starved I was for companionship. Perhaps it was that craving that led me to drop my guard, even just subconsciously._

 _"Tell you wot. See that door over there? That's the break room. I believed that's what those lying humans called it. Not that they ever invited me in while they drank their coffee. But..." He took on a sly tone, "I can still hack in. Can't stop Old Wheatley."_

 _I suppressed a smile, my lips still twitching from it. He seemed to catch it anyway as he began to coax me, "C'mon. You can rest up a bit, maybe you can even find coffee. We're almost to her chamber and who knows wot will happen after that. I mean, SHE is dead but you could still use the rest."_

 _Sighing, I nodded. He was right. In Aperture no luxury is to be taken for granted. No can of old beans you might come across, no weed to break through the dull grey world. And sleep is as luxurious as they come. I'd be a fool not to take it._

 _I placed him into the core recepticle and turned around as he... did whatever it was he did. After a minute I heard the door swoosh open and he called out to me, "There we go! Oi, it's dark in there. Here, let me get my flashlight and... oh."_

 _I looked at him as he voiced his problem, "Well, it seems as though I can't access my flashlight AND be plugged in at the same time. Mad, I know!"_

 _It was indeed dark beyond the door. I took a hesitant step forward._

 _"Yes, brilliant. You can find the light switch. You're really good at that, finding things. You found the portal gun. I think it's straight ahead and then a bit to your left."_

 _I walked forward slowly. I lowered the ASHPD so my other hand can feel ahead of me._

 _"Uh, okay forward.. closer to the left. More..."_

 _My hand hit something cold. Was this it? I waited for Wheatley's next instruction. He began to chuckle, "I was just remembering something funny. Remember when we joked around about me pretending to capture you and turn you over to HER?"_

 _I cold chill ran down my spine. Yes, I did. I wasn't very amused. I struggled to find the switch. What I was holding was cold metal. no... My hand dropped and I started to back away but something, a cold claw grasped my waist painfully._

 _I dug my heel springs into the metal under my boots, squirming to get free. The grip tightened, forcing the air out of my lungs. It hurt. I felt my ribs break. All I could do was thrash. Not that it helped any but I had to do something. False hope._

 _Wheatley's chuckling continued. He made a sound as if he took a breath in before speaking again, "Let there be light."_

 _And light there was. Not the cold, sterile fluorescent light that was almost constant. But a wrathful, yellow optic. And it was over._

Wheatley recognized the entry and began to flip through the pages of the journal. He often got confused and would lose his place. It wasn't as if he could place a bookmark in it. As he drew closer to the latest entry, his paranoid ears picked up a sound. He closed the journal and placed it back in the nightstand. He heard the dog in the apartment downstairs greet it's master and relaxed.

Breathing a sigh of relief he sat back down on Chell's bed and looked out the window it was against. It wasn't much of a view really. All you could see was the back of a brick building across the street and a bit of graffiti. Graffiti gave Wheatley an uneasy feeling. He had seen the mysterious paintings back in the facility. Made by some human that She hadn't been able to kill. Some of the cores had told him there were done by the human that took her down. But after actually meeting the human responsible for that he knew the rumor was false. But that left only more questions, more things he didn't know. He felt it was a strange reaction as he's seen Chell smile it before. She almost seemed comforted by it.

He glanced away from the window and readjusted to blinds to where Chell had them. She likes to keep this room dark for some reason. He decided not to read anymore today. It was bad enough he was in her room without her permission but reading her dream journal always put him on edge.

Not that he felt guilty, he mused as he closed the door. It wasn't as if she would tell him about her nightmares. She hardly talks to him at all. She might explain something once in awhile, such as how to turn on the faucets or how to work a microwave. But other than that she seems to not want to acknowledge him. It wasn't like she avoided him necessarily. She had at first but.

When he first caught her writing in that notebook he felt... well, a little angry. He hid it well but he was too focused on apologizing as she was livid about him entering her room unannounced. But he was a little hurt. There she was telling all her little secrets to a bloody diary when he was practically _begging_ for some form of conversation. He knew she trusted it. She trusted a stack of paper bound by carboard and some metal coils than she did him.

Wheatley knew it was a bit silly but he was jealous of it. He didn't even hate the companion cube as much as he hated that bloody book. Chell never talked to it either. But in the end it wasn't as trustworthy as Chell thought. It had told him all of what she had confided in it's pages.

When Chell had left for her morning jog the next day, Wheatley rushed to her room looking for it. He _had_ to know what was so special, so secret. He wasn't too surprised to see she had written about Aperture. He was even positive she had written about him. He dreaded the confirmation. But something was off. Some of these things hadn't happened. She couldn't be writing it if it had. It wasn't two entries later did he realize these were her nightmares. And they were all of him.

It made him sick. Literally. He had immediately dropped the offending journal and rushed to the toilet to empty his stomach. Whatever guilt he felt before was now crushing him. Wheatley knew he had hurt her. He knew he was a monster. But he was not prepared to learn how deeply he had affected her.

He had seen the scars. The ones he knew he gave her. The ones that weren't there when he first met her. But she wore them with such grace. They were battle scars and proof of her tenacity. But this was different. Her psyche was scarred. She was afraid... of him. Chell still has nightmares about him just as he still did about GLaDOS.

That thought produced another wave of bile. He was no better than Her. No. He had been worse. Chell had trusted him.

After he had flushed the commode and washed the bile out of his mouth he went back to her room and placed the journal where she left it. He took a deep breath of the air to calm himself. It was heavy with her scent. It calmed him just a bit. She was alive.

But he was still shaking a bit later when she came home. He was quiet that evening but she didn't seem to notice. After she had left for bed, Wheatley had a sinking feeling. She was going to dream again. And he felt obligated to know what horror he had bestowed her.


	2. Chapter 2

_Pant. Pant. Pant._ The steady rhythm of Chell's breathing matched her steps as she ran. She relished the wind chilling her face and the smell of autumn filling her lungs. As she turned a corner, the overcast skies fulfilled it's promise of rain. The corner of her lips turned up and she didn't try to hide it. The water sprinkling upon her face was invigorating. Just as the warmth of the sun was comforting. Just as the snow was breathtaking. Chell loved all the open sky had to offer. She savored all the little sensations the outside world held.

The soft sound of her tennis shoes hitting the cracked pavement were a far cry from the _tap tap_ of long-fall boots on metal flooring. She enjoyed seeing the occasional vine crawl up the brick architecture of Detroit. Fallen leaves moved through the streets with the wind. Chell swerved to avoid a passerby seeking escape from the rain. She stopped for a moment and noticed a crescent moon and stars painted over faded brick. She admired the graffiti for a bit until another breeze ran through her. It was then she noticed how wet she was. Her wet ponytail and clothes were quickly zapping her body heat.

Deciding that she too should go somewhere until she dried off a little, she looked ahead of her and spotted a diner. The bell rang upon her entry, warm air wrapped around her bringing with it the smell of coffee. After she had been seated and the waitress poured her a cup, Chell allowed her mind to wander about her surroundings. A stout man was scraping of the painted jack-o-lanterns and bats from the window. Halloween had just ended two days prior.

It hit her full force on the significance of the date. It had been the anniversary. She took a deep breath and took a sip of her coffee knowing full well she couldn't stop from thinking about that day now...

* * *

The moment she left that shack she knew she was free. Knowing GLaDOS' nature she wouldn't have been surprised to find it was a hologram, another test chamber. But not even She could replicate the smell of wheat or the feeling of true sunlight on her skin. But after a day or so of walking, the moment was short-lived. The only life she could remember was full of worries, worries of failing a test, of never escaping aperture. She never considered what she would do once she had. She didn't know how long she'd been in stasis, or if civilization still existed. Even if it did she couldn't remember much of anything of her life before testing. She knew... concepts. She knew what holidays were and what snow looked like. She knew who Abraham Lincoln was and how to read but she had no recollection of learning these things. She couldn't even remember ever seeing other people. She shook these thoughts from her mind and tightened her grip on the companion cube. There _had_ to be people left. She was going to get the life she never had. She would have a job, a home, maybe even friends. She would be normal.

By the time she reached a paved road, Chell was exhausted. Dehydration had set in and her muscles and injuries were screaming. The adrenal vapors had left her body leaving her feeling weak. She knew she could follow it to a town, to people. Before she could celebrate, the exhaustion took over and she collapsed.

When she came to she was a bit disoriented. Her vision was blurred and all she could see was grey. She could smell ammonia. For a fleeting moment she was afraid she was back in Aperture. But fortunately her vision cleared and she could see her surroundings. Her arm felt cold and she could see the IV in her vein. It was a cold and sterile environment, but it wasn't Aperture. She relaxed against the bed under her.

Soon after a nurse came in. The woman was surprised to see the patient awake but after explaining what injuries she had (the most severe ones had already been treated by GLaDOS) she told her they were still treating her from malnutrition and dehydration. Then she asked for Chell's name.

Chell was a bit weary at first. She hadn't spoken in only God knows how long. The voice can reveal so much, so many emotions that can be manipulated. But here it was, a human was asking her name and not a computer. Yes, they need to know that, lest she be labeled Jane Doe.

" _Ch..e..ll."_

Tears had sprung to her eyes as the hoarse noise passed her lips. It felt as though she had swallowed hot sand. After the nurse handed her some water, the doctor came in and examined her. He told her that it was a minor case of vocal chord atrophy of some sort.

Chell was almost devastated. All these years of letting robots think she was mute now she could be. Karma was real. Fortunately that was not the case. She was referred to a speech therapist and within a year she could speak freely. Though her voice never did lose it's raspiness.

The first thing she learned about her new life was there had been some sort of event that had reshaped life on Earth. Some sort of war that had been the product of Black Mesa. It had ended a good while during her time in captivity but society was still rebuilding. From the things she heard, she was quiet impressed with the progress. But she noticed there were hardly any children to be seen. Not to say they weren't any, she just hadn't seen more than a few.

A lot of things once deemed junk had been redeemed, such as CD's and record players. She hadn't seen a flat screen since she left Aperture but the old TVs suited her and everyone else fine. Landlines were still being installed. It seemed technology had been taken back 30 years. The only place you might find a computer was the hospital but that was only practical.

As soon as she could, Chell had gotten a job filling paperwork and evidence for the police department. It was tedious work but safer than testing so she couldn't complain. Since technology had taken steps back, people relied on filing instead of databases. Keeping it organized wasn't as hard for Chell as it seemed to be for her co-workers. But for her it was like a simple puzzle. And she was very good at puzzles.

Vegetation had fused itself through most of Detroit yet never threatening to swallow it's bustling, slowly growing city. For a period of time, Chell had stayed in an abandoned warehouse until the day she could afford an apartment. It didn't take long. It was a few blocks away from where she worked. It had a living room that was connected to a kitchenette. There was a large window in the living room and a couple more in the kitchen. There was also a decent window in the bedroom. Between the bathroom and living room was either a large closet of pantry.

It had started out a rough night that night as she slept on the floor of the living room with only the moonlight illuminating it bringing with it his voice. But the baby that had started crying on the floor above her and the music her elderly neighbor below drifted up to her. A train had rushed by in the distance and she was lulled to sleep by the humanity surrounding her.

She had awoke in a panic the next morning. She could still hear his voice echoing in her head telling her to let go. In the end GLaDOS had knocked them both into space as she still was gripping Wheatley's handles. He was laughing at her as her last breath was sucked from her lungs into the reaches of space.

Chell had decided to try to focus on her new life. Within a few months she managed to furnish her home. She had a small television that could pick up local channels on a small desk in front of the window but plants took up most of the window's space. As did a few on the bookshelves. And a couple more in the kitchen. A fern here, a ficus there. Chell felt a sense of comfort in seeing something organic. Something one could rarely find in Aperture. Though before long, the only window that wasn't obstructed with a plant was her bedroom window. Her room was simple. Her headboard against the window, blinds, a mirror, the companion cube next to her closet and a lamp on her nightstand. And of course, _the journal._

She had gotten it a couple months after she moved in. The nightmares were frequent and each one brought back the memory of _him._ She had thought about seeing a psychiatrist but she brushed that notion aside immediately. They would either think she was insane or send people to deal with Aperture. GLaDOS would destroy any such investigation on the spot. Aperture belonged to it's technology now. It's inhabitants should be left in peace.

Chell would write each dream down to purge herself from it. Maybe find some closure. But there was one pattern she recognized. He was in each one. She still was not over him. It should be easy, she tried to reason with herself. _He tried to kill you, you meant nothing, just a bug he could squash. He was just a machine, he had no feelings, forget him._

And she did try. For four years. She went for her morning jogs, went to work and soon she didn't need to go to speech therapy anymore. She began to socialize more. She had even accepted a date from a man who worked at the nursery where she bought her plants.

It was a lovely evening. They went to dinner and small-talked about cacti and Hallow's eve which led to him going on about pumpkins. It was quiet typical as far as dates went, or at least from what she could remember on the subject. They kissed goodnight and she went home. She thought about the night as she waited for sleep. It was a nice evening. Maybe she didn't quiet feel much chemistry but it was so... normal. Which was all she ever wanted. She drifted off to sleep with hopes for the future.

 _October 30,_

 _"You didn't do anything. She did the work."_

 _I swallowed the lump in my throat that wanted me to cry as She spoke. I didn't understand. I was so close. I could understand Wheatley wanting to stay but... I did everything Wheatley asked. He's in charge of everything now, more than he could ever had hoped for. Why can't he just let me leave? And to make matters worse, She won't shut up._

 _"Oh, really? That's what the two of you think, is it? Well, maybe it's time I did something then."_

 _I pressed myself as close as I could the the back of the elevator. I could only watch in horror as he shoved Her into a potato battery. I stood frozen as he called me selfish. And still she would not be quiet. She just had to reveal what she knew of him. Moron. My heart sank. I knew that would tear at Wheatley's fragile ego. But I wasn't prepared for his reaction. His full wrath..._

 _"Could a moron do this?!" His claw struck the elevator sending her inside. A piece of glass cut my hand and I dropped the portal gun. Droplets of blood hit the floor and Her optic before it began to flow. I grabbed my hand and blood seeped from my fingers._

 _It seemed to catch Wheatley's attention for he stared at my bleeding hand. His optic brightened, "All that came from that tiny scratch? Oh, Brainwave! Let's see what this does.."_

 _His claw punched through the glass several more times. I was covered in scratches and could feel the elevator trying to give out. With another punch, a large shard came flying too fast for me to dodge._

 _I couldn't breath. I could feel the glass in my windpipe. I wanted to swallow but I couldn't, I couldn't breath! I tried to pull it._

 _"Here, let me get that for you..." He was laughing when the claw reached in and pulled the shard out. Blood gushed out. I was choking on it, filling my lungs and stomach with it. He was still laughing, "Uh oh... Did I forget to mention that was the only thing keeping you from bleeding out?"_

 _I collapsed over Her, her yellow optic now glowing red. She was screaming with grief._

Chell was struggling to scream waking up. She sighed and wrote down the entry. Disappointment was no stranger to her. But today it was a bit deeper. She had so hoped last night would be one of the few nights where her dreams were unplagued with _his_ presence. Perhaps she could've even had a pleasant dream about taking a vacation or having a family. But that was asking too much. She was just grateful that was all Aperture could do. She had hoped that was all the trick that Halloween had in store for her. Again, she was wrong.

Tension leaving her shoulders, she closed placed the pencil in between the pages of the notebook and closed it. Watering her plants were first before she decided to settle the growling in her stomach with a bowl of cereal. She poured a bit of water in the milk to save herself from running out too soon. She turned on the old television and positioned the rabbit-antennae until she found a signal. As she watched the Munsters she thought about doing something different for the day. The station was advertising the night's creature feature movie, Frankenstein. Chell had the day off and decided she would spend Halloween as she spent all of them since she left Aperture. Alone.

Not that she cared. If she wanted she could visit Chad and see if he wanted to schedule another date. He was very forthcoming in wanting to see her again. Not that she had much experience in these matters. She had a feeling the last date had been her first. He was a fairly handsome man, a bit stoic but very kind.

But in the end she decided to keep a bowl of candy for the rare trick-or-treaters and enjoy the night in. Just as she was contemplating reading a book or watching a movie, the phone rang. She placed her breakfast on the trunk that served as her coffee table and removed it from the receiver on the wall. It was from the hospital. A few minutes later she was rushing, pulling on her jeans and sweater with haste, not even bothering to put her hair up as she slipped her boots. She grabbed her bag and was out the door.

Chell's mind was racing as she grew closer to her destination as the words replayed in her head. _A man with some deep lacerations and bruising. Slightly disoriented. Brought in by a farmer. Orange jumpsuit. Asking for her by name._ By name. She knew it was a survivor. Another survivor from that Hell where the majority of her memories came from.

But all the people had either been killed by GLaDOS or died in stasis. Or the five _Wheatley_ spoke of. Her heart began to speed up faster as she thought. The dens. Those little nooks and crannies that provided a brief rest and rotten beans. And the paintings. Of warnings, hints... _of her._ Made by something very human. One who saw her. She didn't know how long she had been in stasis but there was no other explanation she could think of. The artist survived.

Chell was startled as she bumped into a figure only to see it was a man wearing a devil mask leaving with a cast. She apologized before she ran to the nurse's desk. At first she could hardly get any response, the nurses being overwhelmed with adults in costumes with party related injuries and a few crying children with various ailments. But a familiar face recognized her and Chell remembered her as the nurse she first saw waking up those four years ago.

She had explained to Chell that they immediately recognized his jumpsuit that had the same logo her's had when she was brought in. He was responsive yet he hadn't been making sense and when they asked if he had anyone they could contact he began to beg them to find Chell, that he _needed_ to see her. He would barely let them examine him but they were able to stitch a gash on his forehead. They were a bit worried he might have had a concussion.

They had yet to take him for a ct scan for the night had been chaos on their one machine and outdated databases. The doctor was hoping she would get there and give them any information on him she could as well calm the distressed man.

The nurse directed her down the hall to a curtain before informing her she had to tend to other patients. Chell stopped and took a breath. She was nervous. At that moment she felt a little self conscious. Her sweater fell a bit, showing off her shoulders, including a couple scars that adorned them. Her uncombed hair had grown quite a bit and her honey skin wasn't as pale as it had been without sunlight. And her face wasn't as sunken when whoever this was had seen her last; Chell hoped her skill of keeping any emotion from showing would not fail now.

She pulled the curtain back a bit an peered into the room. And at the shivering man that looked to be in his mid to late thirties sitting in the gurney. He was almost too tall for it, his feet nearly dangling off. He had to be at least 6'4. She noticed a folded hospital gown under him surmised that he refused to undress. He wore the standard Aperture testing jumpsuit as she had, tied at the waist, though his was more clumsily fastened around his narrow hips. He was very skinny. But she expected that. He was ghastly pale too. She had predicted that was well.

His thick blond hair obstructed his cut but she could see his eyes that were behind a pair of round silver glasses that were surprisingly intact save for a scratch on the right lens perched on a slightly long nose. His features, though pale and gaunt, were attractive. Then sensing her presence, his eyes turned to her...Those vivid blue eyes.

She was so taken by the color that she hardly noticed his mouth move. But she couldn't not notice his voice. That deep, smooth voice that encased her in ice right then and there. It echoed and shattered her ice tomb and shook her world, "Chell? Is that you?"

No. It couldn't be _him._ He didn't know her name, he would never use it if he had. Hearing _that_ voice speak her name felt so alien and almost unnatural. It sent chills down her spine and a jolt in her gut, and the feeling wasn't completely unpleasant but she didn't dwell on the sensation just then. The man bolted out of the gurney, stumbling towards her.

She tensed as he stood before her. His trembling hand reached for her face and she flinched, lips curling in an instinctive sneer. His hand froze in the air and he let out a shaky breath, "It really is you..."

It really was _his_ voice. Not the voice of some mysterious angel that left her cryptic messages, not even a _true_ human at all. She didn't know what he was, but it was Wheatley. Then, like a scene in a horror movie, he lunged. For a brief moment it seemed he was going to strangle her with his newly acquired hands and her own went up defensively.

But instead of feeling her throat in his grasp, he held her face in his clumsy grip, pressing her into his chest as he cried into her hair. His voice bombarded her, something that almost sounded like _sorry._ The same voice that has cheered for her torment for four years. Without even being aware of her fist, it came crashing on the side of his temple, knocking his glasses askew. The impact felt odd against her hand but she didn't stop to think about it.

Wheatley fell backwards on the floor. He glanced up at her, hurt. She suddenly felt like a trapped animal desperately wanting escape. And Wheatley was the obstacle. Shaking with emotion she stalked forward to him. At this point she wasn't worried about hurting him. She just hoped the nurse wouldn't be in to take him for the cat scan anytime soon.

Wheatley, though crying, braced himself against the gurney as if preparing himself for an attack. He began another stream of apologies. Empty words in her mind. Eager to silence the voice of her nightmares, she grabbed his hair, preparing to knock his head on the metal of the gurney. But as she felt his scalp she noticed something odd. Wheatley winced as if she had touched a tender spot. There was a bump.

Chell's first thought was it was a tick. She couldn't stop herself from investigating. She parted the hair and looked. There above his ear, was a small metal ring that looked similar to a headphone jack. The skin around it was red and crusty with dried blood. She ran her thumb over the port, earning a pained grunt from Wheatley.

"S-She did that..." He hiccuped, "For the transfer."

Wheatley began to babble, seeming desperate to convey his ordeal. Chell was able to put pieces together through his frenzied speech. _She_ was not satisfied with Wheatley's exile. And the more Chell thought about it, it was a very fitting punishment. If not a horrific one. She had been serious about reanimating the dead. All the subjects in cryosleep _were_ dead. But the cadaver GLaDOS had found was very well preserved. The frontal lobe had been damaged by the stasis, making it perfect for Her plan. She replaced the damaged brain tissue with Wheatley's memory drive. She did that first before she revived the body. But he was conscious the entire time. As terrifying being stuck as a corpse had been the reanimation was far worse as he felt true pain for the first time.

First thing he learned after moving and controlling his body's functions was how to hold an ASHPD. Had it not been for Jerry, he wouldn't have escaped testing. Wheatley reached for the hand still tangled in his hair and pressed his face against it, renewing his mantra of _sorry._ It was all too much for her. The smell of ammonia, buzzing of the fluorescent lighting and _his_ voice were things she only hoped would never leave her nightmares.

Panic starting to crush her, Chell pulled away from him as if she had been burnt. She ran out of the room. Her mind was a blur of adrenaline and thought didn't return until the scent of her surroundings changed. Her nose crinkled as the adrenaline still coursing through her body amplified the smell of the cafeteria. Her stomach clenched, what little cereal she ate earlier suddenly felt like it had been too much, and her mouth watered in preparation to empty it.

Chell swallowed and took a deep breath allowing herself to try to gather her thoughts. Water sounded very nice to her at the moment. A minute later she sat at a table drinking from a styrofoam cup. She was still shaking. It didn't surprise her that she had been affected so. Who wouldn't be when you're in a hospital on Halloween with the monster that haunted your dreams in the form of a reanimated corpse. Even Mary Shelley couldn't fathom such a reality.

She sat there for a good while musing on the neglected moral of Shelley's book when she saw the doctor across the cafeteria drinking coffee. She wondered if Wheatley had gone back for his scan yet. Her stomach sank. _The CT Scan_! The moment they see his brain, they'll be very curious. They'll be very anxious to know where such technology came from. Perhaps they'll dissect his brain. A thought that shouldn't bother her but left her with unpleasant feelings all anyways.

Or worse. They'll connect it back to Aperture. As far as the outside world knows, Aperture is a dead facility. But she doubted that if they knew the truth, they would let something so dangerous stand. They would want to destroy it before it could risk what progress civilization has made. Most likely GLaDOS would deal with any intruders swiftly. But it is also a possibility GLaDOS might not be able to defend her base if they had enough force. Chell had no idea what capabilities the military had if there even was much of one left.

For all the pain that it has caused, Chell would rather it be left in peace. And the best way to protect the people here and Aperture was to make sure people are unaware of it's presence.

She hurried and found the attending nurse and was relieved to find that they wouldn't able to get him in for a few more hours. That gave Chell ample time to put her filing skills to work. She logged into one of the old computers that had been left unattended and removed John Doe from the que. She then snuck into radiology and stole images of what she hoped was a healthy adult brain. She then went back and changed his chart, checking the order off and adding the images. Just as she placed the file back where she stole it, a nurse came back and began to shoo her, assuming she was a concerned family member wanting to know the status of their loved one.

A bundle of nerves, Chell paced the hallway where Wheatley was being kept. She waited, not bothering to check to see if Wheatley was alright. Every now and then she thought she could hear him muttering to himself and cringed. It was nearly eight p.m. when she saw the doctor with said chart in hand. He was a pudgy man in his sixties with a cheery demeanor.

When he saw her he smiled warmly and approached her, "There's our mysterious Jane Doe. How are have you been doing?"

Chell cleared her throat and answered as clearly as she could, "Very well, thank you... Is Wheatley..?"

"Is that the man's name? I guess we should have asked you earlier." He shrugged, opening the chart.

Chell eyed it as he flipped through it and asked, "He wouldn't tell you?"

"All we could get from him is that he needed to find you. He had ran out in front of a truck. We were worried he had sustained head trauma... " He read through the file and Chell held her breath before he smiled and closed it, "But everything looks just fine. He's a bit dehydrated and he'll be sore for awhile but that will be ease up on it's own. We'll get his discharge papers and you should be able to take him home soon."

Chell breathed a sigh of relief that nobody noticed anything out of the ordinary. But then the full weight of what the doctor had just said began to register. _Take him home?_ She began to shake her head vigorously, her voice too shocked to start protesting.

"You _don't_ want to take him? I figured by the way he went on about you, you two were close. I guess we could keep him overnight. He does seem confused, we could use that time to perform a mental evaluation."

Chell bit the inside of her cheek. True, they would most likely deem Wheatley insane, there is still that small chance that they could believe his story and that would leave her efforts tonight in vain. She could drop him at a shelter... but she's not sure how much of the human world he understands. He didn't seem to understand not running out in front of a moving vehicle. Plus she would always be looking over her shoulder for him, knowing he was out there and could attack at any moment.

She hates the idea of what she know she must do. She'll have to take him home. At least that way she can trust someone not discovering what he was. She hopes she won't have to teach him much about human life as she did not think she had much patience in her to help him learn. But at least she won't have to feel an absurd guilt of him fending for himself. The doctor sensed her decision and happily retrieved the required paperwork.

Wheatley was curled up on the bed, hugging his knees when she walked in. She could see he had been crying but he immediately brightened when he saw her.

"I-I thought you left," He started rambling, moving to get off the bed before thinking better of it considering how well it went the last time, "I would've deserved it. I deserve to be a-alone, surrounded by needles and scary looking humans.I deserve worse, really. But I _am_ so sorry, luv. I really am. A-and you don't have to forgive me. Or talk to me... though that would be nice."

Chell squinted her eyes as he said this before he explained, "I heard you.. talking.. to that medical person. Lovely voice, by the way..."

She decided to stop him before he began to ramble again, "Are you ready to go?"

Wheatley's bloodshot eyes widened upon hearing her breathy voice before he considered what she had said, "Go? Go where?"

She looked at him and cringed as one word left her mouth, "Home."

That night had been a long one without sleep on her part. He, on the other hand was exhausted. He immediately inquired about food and water and she obliged him with the cereal she had left on the coffee table that morning. He didn't seem to mind it's lack of freshness and she was pleased to see he could eat without instruction, though he had struggled a bit holding a spoon. He was also a sloppy eater. She gave him some water and Tylenol which he had trouble swallowing but did so. He didn't have the energy to investigate his new home that night and as soon as he sat down on the sofa he was asleep. Chell looked at the television, the shouts of "it's alive!" not effecting her guest. She turned off the television and went to her room, placing the cube in front of the door. She didn't sleep.

That had been a hard day for them both. Wheatley was very enthused about the apartment when he woke up and took his own tour. He had found the large, empty closet next to the bathroom and inquired about it. She hadn't used it for anything and realized it was big enough to fit a twin bed. It was better than him sleeping on the couch and he was ecstatic at the prospect of having his own room. Even if it really was a closet. She was very relieved to learn he already learned the basics such as eating, walking and using the bathroom at the facility. Though she did have to explain why he needed to bath and how to turn the water on. He listened to her instruction very well and she was happy to not have to help him. But right after that when he came out naked she had to explain the concept of modesty.

Chell snapped back to her senses as she drained the last of her now cold coffee.

Her routine had changed quite a bit since that Halloween, or at least her hopes for the future. A couple days after she had brought Wheatley home, she had gone to get some things he needed such as a bed and clothes. She had bumped into Chad while she was shopping. He had asked about organizing another date. She told him she was busy. It wouldn't be right to drag someone into her complicated life. She never went to that nursery again.

That had been a year and two days ago. Wheatley had made himself at home. He even has occasionally proved himself to be useful. He was always eager to help whether it was grabbing something out of her reach or fixing dinner. He must've grown sick of the leftovers of tv dinners, canned soup, and burnt toast she would give him every so often because he began watching a cooking show that would come on in the afternoons and wanted to try his hand at it. He picked up on things quickly. She supposed it was because he was free from the programming that was supposed to inhibit him. He was still a bit scatter-brained, sure but he was able to focus more easily. She wasn't sure if that should be a relief or if she should be concerned

For a few weeks, he would always greet her when she would come home with a stream of apologies. She never replied.

She has been watching Wheatley adjust to human life surprisingly well. Though every now and then he would forget and mention getting his processors checked or talk about something he missed when he was a core.

For the most part, he was the perfect roommate. Though sometimes when she came home he would be very quiet and tense, almost like he was trying to hide something, And with their history, that worried her. As friendly and helpful he was, her mind would never let her forget what he was capable of.

Her nightmares had increased in frequency since his arrival. Every time she felt herself relax around him, they would be there. It worried her how much she did want to let go around him. She had grown accustomed to his presence. She didn't realize it before but she was... lonely. Chell had been resigned to never sharing where she had come from to anyone. It was a comfort to have a voice that that knew her and she didn't have to hide her past from. Even if it was the same voice that terrorized her in her sleep.

Setting the empty cup down, Chell payed for her coffee and stood to leave. Satisfied that she was dry enough, Chell looked at the last painted bat getting scraped off. She wasn't ready to go home yet and her mind tried to find something she could do. She decided she would pick up dinner before she went home.

A/N: This was longer than I had originally intended. I do plan on there being smut later on. Again, I haven't written anything in a while so I apologize for the poor quality.


	3. Chapter 3

A gust of wind hit the side of the building, the sound whispering through the cracks and seams of the windows. A few leaves on Chell's potted plants moved, prompting Wheatley to make sure the windows were closed tight. He wouldn't want the wind knocking them over. He knew he would surely get the blame. Rain hit the window, making soft tapping sounds. Watching the droplets of water stream down the glass reminded Wheatley of the plants he was carefully maneuvering around to reach the window. He glanced at the clock on the shelf. Almost noon. Chell had left for her morning jog nearly five hours ago. Usually she would run for an hour and come back to shower and get ready for work. It was the weekend but Wheatley decided to water her plants for her anyway. One less thing for her to worry about when she gets home.

Whenever that might be, Wheatley muses as he fishes out watering pail from the bottom cabinet, filling it with water. When Wheatley first arrived, he had a feeling Chell would avoid coming home. She would come home an hour later she got off work and spend her most of her weekends jogging and doing errands, or so she said. He always suspected she would just stay away to keep from having to face him. While it did hurt a bit, he couldn't blame her. He was just relieved she even comes back after all he's done. For the first two months he would worry if she was going to leave and not come back at all. But she always did. Usually with dinner or a carton of milk that shouldn't take hours to get. Near the third month, her routine began to become more regular. Chell would get up, eat a quick and easy breakfast, then go for her morning run for about an hour. Around eight she world return and get ready for work then come home a little after five. Weekends she would only be gone a hour or a little bit longer if they needed groceries. After watching her do household chores he began to pick up a few of them when she is out, at least the ones that have a minimal chance of something breaking.

He was sure she most likely just got stuck in the rain or maybe went to grab a bite of lunch. He hopes she eats more than what he sees. But it has not escaped him what time of year it was. Time was a different concept as a core. Not just because if careful, Aperture creations could function forever. But Wheatley also believes there was a glitch in Aperture's systems. At first he believed it was just his internal clock but he found many constructs that were saying their time read 9999999 ect. or flashing 12:00 as his own was. There were no dates, or clocks. And with no way to see the sun rise and set, a day could've been a year. Time was one long blur in Aperture Science. But as a human in the outside world, time is much more fluid. When he first arrived, the first few trees he saw had bright orange and yellow leaves and the air had a slight chill to it. He had heard about human holidays and their strange traditions. But what little information he had on them failed to come to mind when he saw what he now knows was a scarecrow with a werewolf mask in the middle of the wheat field. It had frightened him badly enough that it renewed the energy he lost after a day and a half of walking and he ran out of the wheat field. He was so focused on running he didn't see the vehicle until it ran into him. His luck and turned around after that. The farmer that had hit him brought him to the hospital and after a few more scares and a bit of pain that the medical personal inflicted on him, he saw her. Chell. For a split second, he didn't recognize her. She looked different from _there,_ healthier. Her skin wasn't pale and her hair was longer. Overworked muscles had swelled down, making her appear a bit smaller. No wonder she wanted out so badly. It was a rush of emotions, both positive and negative. It was one of the best moments in his life when she reappeared and _told_ him, with her voice, that they were going home.

He carried the pail, careful not to tip it and spill the liquid inside. Wheatley was very careful not to over-water them, as he had already killed one that way before. He also took great care to avoid the cactus as he leaned over it to tend to the ficus behind it. He had destroyed one before but he couldn't be blamed for that one. It wasn't his fault that it snagged his pant leg when he walked past it. Convinced it was attacking him, he had to punch it in self-defense. His fingers twitched around the pail, the long-healed scratches itching at the memory. At least the bloody things didn't need much water.

With the last one watered, he breathed a sigh of relief as he stepped away from the spikey plant and placed the empty can back in it's cabinet. They were a waste of space if you asked him. They just sat there, never moving or talking. If they weren't green, one wouldn't know if they were even alive. Not unlike those popsicles in the relaxation chambers. They would lay there in complete silence, at least until the life support systems would beep as they expired. Leaving Wheatley in just as much silence had they been alive. The plant life there didn't seem as fragile as the sleeping humans. The vines were more destructive, popping through concrete and panels, threatening to devour the facility and reminding Wheatley of the gravity of his situation. Aperture had been decaying as much as the little humans whose systems would go silent. Every now and then the plants he had just watered brings back memories of being surrounded by decay, silence and the sprouts of nature peaking through. Not that he's very bothered by them, they're just little reminders. He just doesn't see why Chell has so many. But she seems to like them so he doesn't mind watering them once in a while.

Wheatley walked into the living area and with a sigh he collapsed on the worn couch, his feet dangling of the arm. He stared at the ceiling beams of the loft with a mixture of boredom and loneliness. He thought about fixing some food but she could come home with take out so he thought it best to wait. He considered reading the journal. Maybe there was a new entry which could tell him if she felt she needed to avoid him today. Then again, she looked fine this morning. Yes, no need to upset himself going through old entries if she seemed rested.

But even so, her nightmares are regular. If she didn't have one last night, she will soon. Perhaps his presence spurs them on. He had thought that maybe she would do better if he left but he knew he could never do that. He wished he could say it was because he needed help learning to be human or he was scared of the outside world, but it was more selfish than that. He just didn't want to leave her. Four years had been spent in space wishing he could see her again, thinking about the only friend he had so ruthlessly betrayed. About the one human, the only _anything_ that listened to him. The way he heard little huffs of concealed laughter when he said something funny, the way she obeyed and trusted his instructions, the way her eyes lit up with pure relief when he came back for her after She crushed him. He remembered how that human, _the_ human that killed Her, looked at him eagerly as he spouted off his ideas to her. And how _easy_ it was for him to use her. She hasn't looked at him the same way since.

But he is here, _home_ , where she is very much alive and well. Okay, maybe not completely well with the mental trauma and all but she's certainly not crushed under a mashey spike plate. Being surrounded by her presence was a welcome relief from the guilt that would grip him otherwise. And real guilt was so much worse than simulated guilt. Not that emotions were necessarily stronger as a human but they interacted with the human body in a way that they couldn't as a core. One of the drawbacks to being human.

And there were quiet a few of them. Such as physical pain and illnesses. There is aging and death to worry about. It was great being able to walk and pick things up but one had to learn to balance in order to do those things, something She took great enjoyment in his first attempts at it during those first days as a human. Even when everything is as it should be, there were still needs that had to be attended to...functions. She took amusement in his first introductions to those but luckily he learned much quicker with cloud that was his programming gone. Showering was a shock at first but he would rather deal with that than smell. Smell was an interesting sense to deal with, as was having instincts. He never realized just how _off_ Aperture felt as a core. There was a sense of dread that was as constant as the adrenal vapors being pumped into the air. It made his newly human hair stand. He owed a great deal to those instincts for keeping him alive. He did appreciate a few human other aspects as well.

Eating was pleasant. Even Chell's cooking was acceptable even though the meals she makes tastes more like wet cardboard. And while being tired was frustrating, sleep was very enjoyable if done in warm, soft place. He didn't mind the fact that he will one day die much. Had She not transferred him to this body, She would have either let him drift in space forever or just have killed him outright anyway. So all in all, being human wasn't too bad. But there was one thing, one amazing and terrifying sensation. He understands it's purpose. Why and how it happens. It was biology. But what he didn't understand was why it had to feel so familiar. The only difference from the _itch_ was the lack of pure rage that accompanied it. But he feared the next time he caved in and indulged it, which was more often than he cared to admit, that rage would come back.

Wheatley scrunched his eyes closed to try to shut out the memory of the terrible bliss and focused on the sounds surrounding him. The apartment was silent, but he could hear the neighbors as they went about their lives. He knew a couple of them, not very well of course, but he did chat with them every now and then. Mrs. Lemieux was yelling at one of her kids above. Her and her husband have two and they seemed very eager to tell everyone they meet that they had reproduced. He wasn't sure why, one was a bloody brat from what he could hear and the other cried constantly. In the apartment beneath, he could hear Mr. O'Callaghan's radio. It was usually set on news broadcasts, sometimes there would be an old song playing. Never a tune he recognizes. Mr. O'Callaghan was a nice, somewhat odd fellow. The elderly man loved having an ear to tell his war stories to. If he couldn't find one, he would regale his dog with his tales.

He was contemplating watching the telly, when his eyes grew a bit heavy and he decided to close them for just a bit. He woke up to a rattle from the sound of keys before the door swung open. He sat up to greet Chell. As predicted, she had a paper bag carrying chinese food. She placed it on the counter before her hands went to her hair and pulled it out of it's usual ponytail. He could see it was wet.

 _Of course it's wet, she's been running around in the bloody rain,_ He thought to himself, slightly bitter.

She motioned to the bag before she walked away from it. He got up and inspected it's contents before he heard the shower rush on. His mouth watered at the smell of sweet and sour chicken but he decided not to dig in just yet. Chell was not going to start avoiding him again if he could help it. He pulled a couple of plates from the cabinet, smiling a bit when he didn't drop them before he got a couple of forks. He waited until he heard the water shut off to empty the cartons on the plates. A couple minutes later, she came out of the bathroom in dry, loose clothes.

Chell's bare feet padded softly against the floorboards, focused on the green bottle in the back of the fridge. Her muscles ached, having lost track of the time while she was running. Most of the tension she felt had been spent with the energy through her jog. However, despite the sudden fatigue she felt, she was still a bit on edge. A glass of the cheap wine should relax her enough to face sleep. She grabbed a coffee mug from the cabinet and reached for the bottle when Wheatley's voice broke her train of thought. Her fingers tightened around the mug as if it were going to shoot a portal. She whipped around to see Wheatley standing behind her.

In his hands he held two plates, shaking but succeeding in not spilling them, "So, do you want to eat at the table or on the, um, the couch?"

She had forgotten about dinner as soon as she started her shower. While a bit of wine and a chance at a peaceful night of sleep seemed heavenly, the prospect of warm food made her stomach growl. And the hopeful look on Wheatley's face didn't help. His smile was broad and cheerful, but his eyes were dismal. Telling herself Wheatley did not effect her decision, she pointed to the sofa before turning and filling her mug with the deep red substance. She took a small sip. It was a week since she had opened it but it tasted fine. He placed her plate on the trunk in front of the sofa before looking to the table where he usually ate. Chell set her mug next to her plate before taking her seat. She was reaching for the plate when a presence nearly brushed against her. Jumping, she looked at Wheatley who had sat down beside her. Every muscle in her body stiffened and she looked at him wearily.

"Sorry! Sorry, I just thought it looked cozy over here, " He tried to avoid her eyes as he spoke, "It's been rainy out there all day and... quiet in here. Would you feel better if I ate over there?"

Usually Wheatley would eat at the table as she would eat her meal on the couch. In the beginning before he began to fix his own food, she would eat at the table or her room and then give him what she had left over from her meals. Scraps. There had been days where she wouldn't feed him at all. Then one day he asked how to use the microwave. He learned how to turn on the stove from watching tv. He was so proud of himself. He always cooked enough for the both of them, which was more then she could say. Though she always watched him take a bite before she ate anything he prepared. She started to bring home more food eventually. But even when they ate at the same time, they always ate separate. Chell suddenly felt strangely guilty. Not that he deserved her pity. He deserved to be beaten, stabbed, and poisoned. She never did anything of course. It would have been easier if he was still in the form that still haunts her dreams instead of a human. But people treated animals better than she had Wheatley. Had there been a lock in the tiny space he slept in she would have locked him in it long ago. She didn't have to treat him as she had. She wasn't Her. Chell shook her head, motioning for him to stay as she took her plate and began to eat. Wheatley smiled, the haunted look in his eyes waning as he focused on his own food.

"So... you have a good run?" He broke the silence after his first bite.

Chell sighed and nodded. Even when they ate apart, he would talk across the room, mostly about some little thing he heard or saw. She rarely responded unless he asked a question that a gesture couldn't answer. Even then, she might not answer at all.

"And that was all, you just ran? In the rain? Well, you got dinner, obviously. But still, that doesn't seem very relaxing." He was trying to sound non-chalant but his tone had an edge of irritation. Perhaps concern had she been inclined to say he was capable of emotions that didn't center around himself.

She picked up her mug and drank half of it down before answering, "I had some coffee a few blocks down."

His voice turned cheerful, "Oh! How was that?"

She shrugged.

"Hmmm, alright then. It was so-so, was it?" Wheatley continued to eat and search for things to talk about, "My day as fine. Uneventful. Maybe a little lonely, but fine."

He then switched topic to the topic to some mundane thing, she couldn't be sure what. Chell was too busy trying to swallow the reappearing guilt and burying it with rice. She would not allow herself to feel bad. She had no reason to. She didn't kill him, she gave him a place to stay. She even talks to him every now and then. Wheatley made it obvious he didn't like the quiet. Perhaps she didn't give him much attention, but what has he done to deserve it? Water her plants? Manage to cook a meal without burning it? He was just trying to stay on her good side.

She never asked him to do anything, he just did it on his own. Now that she thought about it, he never asked her for thanks. At first he made sure to tell her that he did these things, proud of himself, but not expecting any praise. Perhaps he was trying to prove to her he was useful. And he was, for the most part. He was clumsy, she had lost a couple of plants, knick knacks, and a few plates to the trait.

Speaking of plates, they had both finished dinner. Chell gestured and Wheatley handed her his plate. This was one chore she did not let him do. It would be too expensive to be constantly replacing broken dishes. It was curious to her that he could take to cooking so easily but he had trouble handling dishes. It didn't take long at all to wash the two plates and forks, though as she was putting them up, Wheatley called out, "Oi, forgot one!"

Chell's brows drew in confusion as she checked the sink then the cupboard. She looked back to Wheatley and saw the half empty mug in his hand. She reached out for him to hand it to her but he made no move to do so, only looked at the wine with curiosity, "What is this stuff anyway?"

He sniffed it and scrunched his nose, "Ugh, smells a bit funny... does it taste better than it smells? Is that it?"

Immediatly, Chell darted forward, shaking her head and motioning for him to hand it over. Wheatley took a step forward to comply but stopped. Chell reached him and he took a step back.

"I mean you seem to like it, so it must not be so bad." A smirk crept onto Wheatley's face as she tried to grab it but he successfully pulled the mug away, "Don't be like that, luv. You've shared your food with me before, might as well share this. Couldn't hurt if I had a little taste."

Chell reached for it again but he held it out of her reach. She jumped, hissing, " _I_ could hurt you!"

"You seem fine. It can't be poisonous or you'd be dead." He avoided another attempt from Chell and turned around, her pressing against his back as she tried to reach his arms.

"Wheatley, I'm serious."

She wasn't sure what Wheatley was thinking, neither was Wheatley for that matter, but he was very amused with the situation and he couldn't help laughing as he felt the small woman try to climb over him to reach what he was holding. Holding the mug with both hands to reduce the risk of dropping it, he swiftly brought it to his lips and took a big gulp. Chell knew what he had done as he started to choke.

Wheatley coughed and sputtered, "That... is absolutely horrendous. I..I think it's expired, whatever it is."

Chell huffed, laughing. She stopped struggling against his back and moved to where she could see his face. Shrugging, she again held her hand out for him to hand over what was left.

"You _still_ want this?" Wheatley's brow rose before he spoke in a slightly sympathetic tone, "You really do have brain damage, don't you, luv?"

Her eyes widened. Surely he wasn't mocking her. But the playful glint in Wheatley's eyes told her otherwise. She glared at him, "You're going to give that back."

Wheatley hummed as if thinking, "Hmmmm, I'm going to go with false on that one."

"Wheatley..." She warned.

"No. I'm pretty sure it's not safe." He took a step back from her.

Chell's eyes flashed, sparkling the challenge being presented, "One."

Wheatley suppressed a shiver of delight. He hadn't seen that mixture of tenacity and mischief since she would break one of his monitors. It was frustrating then but he couldn't help but feel a small thrill at it's presence, "You're brilliant and all but it almost tastes like the soap you told me not to eat. Okay, maybe not quiet like that but it's still pretty nasty."

"Two..."

His fingers tightened around the coffee mug. He was almost caught off guard when she bolted, foregoing three. She grabbed his hands, trying to pull the wine from his grasp. They were nearly wrestling at this point and it was a miracle neither of them spilled or dropped the mug. Wheatley noticed he was feeling a bit lightheaded, it aiding to the good humor he was feeling. Chell must've felt it too for she wasn't resisting the small smile pulling at her lips. Somehow she ended up in his arms, her squirming being limited. Despite being slightly restrained, Chell noticed how pleasantly warm he was. He smelled of soap and fresh linen. She grabbed his arm and pulled it to her mouth before gently sinking her teeth into it. His grip loosened and she instantly took the moment to take the cup from him. He reluctantly released her, letting her jump back and walk closer to the kitchen area. She was smiling, sipping her drink in victory.

"Was that really necessary, luv?" Wheatley was still chuckling, rubbing his wrist and checking the skin.

Drinking the mug empty, she rolled her eyes, "You're not even bleeding."

"Ah, that's a relief, now I know you're not a vampire. That just leaves a couple other options to consider. I don't want to alarm you, you're truly brilliant, but you could have rabies."

She had placed the mug in the sink when he said this and her shoulders shook with laughter. He savored the little laughs that he was responsible for. She glanced back and saw the smug look on his face and shook her head dismissively, "Wheatley, you're being..."

"A moron?" Wheatley's voice was soft but cold. He had heard those words enough to know what comes next. The contempt from the scientists, the ridicule from other cores. The dismissal. The memory pumped anger through his veins. The merriment was draining out of him, leaving his posture stiff, as if she just threw ice water in his face. His voice began to increase in volume, "No, luv. It's fine. Can't forget what I am, can we?"

Chell stopped laughing, staring at him with a sense of unease, "I was going to say silly. How could I ever forget what you are?"

Her eyes said it all. _Monster_.

It was too late to notice the subtle anger that was now fading from him. No. No, he was angry but he wasn't angry at _her._ This wasn't like back _there._ He didn't intend to sound like he was getting short with her, he was just scared she thought he was a moron. How does he undo this? How can they get back to where they were hardly a minute ago. Where's the undelete button?

"I'm going to bed." Her face was now as blank and stoic as it was in the facility, but he could sense her tension radiating from her just as easily if she were wearing perfume.

Words failed Wheatley, a rare instance, as she walked past him to her room and he desperately wanted to stop her. He wanted to be laughing again, with her in his arms, using his height to keep something from her reach. He would've reached for her, but he knew she would only pull away. Both physically and emotionally. Not that she wasn't trying the later already. They had taken steps forward tonight and then steps back. He sat on the couch and put his head in his hands. Loneliness returned with a vengeance. He almost felt like he was back in the voids of space. Cold and isolated. He doubted Chell felt any better. Her nightmares would be horrific tonight.

He sighed. Things _had_ to get better. Neither of them could take another year of this isolation. He _had_ to do something...

A/N: Yeah, this chapter will definitely need to be revised. Oh well.


	4. Chapter 4

The door slammed shut without the sound of a click. Chell cursed the fact that the door had no locking mechanism. She stared at it for a few minutes before she realized nothing was going to come through the door. No GLaDOS, no escort bot, and most likely no Wheatley. She sighed, dropping her calm facade and paced a little. All she could think was _What the hell just happened?_

Suddenly, she felt very tired, the tension leaving her body with what remaining energy she had. The wine was doing it's job. She started to change for bed but once she pulled her leggings off before she remembered she needed to do the laundry. The shirt she had put on earlier would have to do. It was just as comfortable as pajamas, despite it being one of _his_. Well, she bought them so she had a right to them. Pulling back the covers, she crawled in them, looking at the companion cube in the corner near her closet and closed her eyes, not caring that it wasn't even ten o'clock yet. Save from the sound of the train in the distance and the wind rustling outside her window, it was quiet, leaving her nothing but her thoughts.

Maybe she had overreacted a little. Wheatley was very sensitive about his intelligence. Chell knew he had experiences where he felt dismissed and that She knew how to prey on those feelings of inadequacy. Though Wheatley was no more a moron than she was fat. He was a paradox, an intelligent intelligence dampening sphere. He was quiet clever, much to her dismay. Most of his plans worked out very well. Even the ones that didn't were pretty brilliant. No one has come as close to killing her than he has. Despite that, the thought of being a moron was always a trigger. So of course he's paranoid since everyone he's ever known made him feel that way.

His reaction earlier was actually pretty mild. It didn't really surprise her. What she was most upset over was what had happened right before that. He was bold enough to challenge her, to lure her out of the comfortable distance she had been trying to put between them. She had laughed, and played along with his little game and what was worse, she _enjoyed_ it. She enjoyed feeling his warmth, being caught up in his lanky arms, scrambling against each other to reach that stupid mug. She had enjoyed nipping his skin and breathing in the smell of him. In her mind it was innocent, a means to win their game, but her body was starting to respond to him in other ways. He was very attractive, she was ashamed to admit. In a cute nerdy sense which she didn't consider her type before. She wasn't sure how long she had she had gone without physical attraction, the want to touch someone and be touched, to want to feel a man's weight on top of her, she wasn't sure if she had ever known it. Had she not heard that familiar darker tone, she might've let her mind listen to her body and with the influence of wine that would've surely been a disaster.

For one thing, Wheatley surely knew nothing of intimacy. He didn't even understand the concept of clothing until she had to explain it to him after his first shower. It was disturbing that Wheatley was the first man she ever saw naked, and while she showed no emotion, she still remembers how her body responded at the sight of water traveling down his torso, her mouth nearly watered at such a perfect male form. Wheatley hated smelly humans as it is, had he known about sexual desires it would likely traumatize him. Another issue, the most important one in her mind, is he tried to _kill_ her. He was not shy about informing her on how he felt during their last battle. He wanted her dead, preferably in a painful manner. As much she may want to think about his new body, to touch it and feel it close to her, to want to feel her mouth on his skin, she could never let herself forget that this was not a man. This _thing_ was just a host, revived flesh containing the AI that used her to satisfy an addiction and then tried to throw her away. Like a used needle to a junkie.

She wasn't sure how long she had known Wheatley before she put him in the chassis. It could've been mere hours, but for her it felt like weeks. It was enough time to form an attachment with the core. He was the closet thing to a friend she had ever known, and she relished hearing his voice, breaking through the isolation Aperture provided. He was the first thing she ever trusted other than paintings on a wall. She didn't realize just how fond she had become until he turned on her. Then that voice began to bring out other feelings during testing. If she was being completely honest with herself, that was the first time she felt herself reacting in a physical sense. His was the first masculine voice she could remember aside from the announcer. Luckily it was no match for the anger and betrayal she felt. As suggestive as his reactions may have been, she had no doubt the euphoria solution was the robot equivalent to heroin. She wanted to believe that the corruption from the chassis was responsible for Wheatley's actions, that the little core she had trusted wasn't that monster. After all, GLaDOS was different after she was removed. But there were too many little moments that suggested otherwise. He wasn't that considerate when they were trekking through Aperture together. He seemed to have a little contempt for _smelly humans_ as he put it. And when he had spoken of the other test subjects that he had tried to use before made her realize; Was his goal to replace GLaDOS the whole time she had known him? Was escape never his intention?

Chell squeezed her eyes tighter and rolled to her other side. Thinking on such things were pointless. It would only stir up her subconscious. Besides, what's done is done. This is now and she had to figure how to avoid Wheatley for the next few days until things went back to normal and tonight was forgotten. She felt her muscles getting heavy and she was soon asleep.

...

Chell eyes snapped open and she sat up with a start, the strange sounds not fading her with the nightmare. It was louder than ever, the baby upstairs crying at the top of it's lungs and the barking dog convinced her the sound wasn't her imagination. It sounded like horses were stampeding through her apartment. She tossed the covers aside and scrambled out of bed and through her bedroom door. Entering the living area, she immediately found the source of the ruckus. An old western was playing at a volume she didn't think the antique television was capable of. She glared at Wheatley, who stood a foot away from it and motioned for him to turn it down.

He gave her a look of confusion, as if he didn't see her gesture. She pointed to the tv again, more forceful in her movements.

Again he shrugged, and shouted over the noise, "What? I don't understand!"

"Turn it down!" She shouted, but raspy her voice was lost over the sound of a gunfight.

"Sorry, can't hear you!"

"I said turn it down!" Chell shouted at the top of her lungs, however her weak vocal chords gave halfway through and it came out more like a loud whisper. It was then she realized just how little she had been using her voice lately.

"You'll have to speak up, luv!" He shouted, but his smirk told her he heard her just fine. But it wasn't as jovial as it had been earlier, no, it was full of arrogance now.

And it was pissing her off. He thought it was funny that she couldn't shout at him, that her voice was still weak? Trying to bite back her anger, she stormed to the television. It was very old and used, with no remote it had to be turned on or off manually. Wheatley blocked her before she could reach the dial. She looked up to meet his eyes, showing she was not going to play along this time. However he seemed far from playful. His face was stoic and for the first time since she's brought him home, she could not read him. His eyes were harsh and determined, mimicking her own when facing a test. A small chill ran down her spine.

She recovered from the brief shock and demanded again, despite her throat now stinging, "Turn. It. Down."

Though he could hardly hear her, he knew what she was wanting. She wanted him to turn the television off so she can go back to bed. Wheatley shook his head, still shouting over the program which was now going into credits, "No! I'm trying to watch something!"

"And people are trying to sleep!" Chell winced, suddenly feeling as if she swallowed hot glass.

" _This concludes our broadcast. Regular programming will continue tomorrow. Please stand by..."_

Neither were paying attention as the national anthem started. Chell tried to point out that the show was over but her throat caught. She was looking down, trying to swallow and give her vocal chords time to recover before she started shouting again. As Wheatley was wondering if she was feeling discomfort, she swallowed and rubbed her throat, and he stared at her with the small movement. His eyes trailed down her neck, which seemed very delicate to him, especially where it met her clavicle. The shirt she wore was large on her, and a bit skewed from where she was tossing and turning. He realized it was one of his button-up shirts that she had got him. It wasn't unusual for her to borrow one before she did the laundry. Not that he minded her wearing it. She looked much more fetching in it than he did if he was honest. The collar was slipping off her shoulder, revealing a small patch of burnt flesh she received from the stalemate booby-trap. Before guilt could return, his eyes trailed down a bit further and froze. He could see the shape of her breasts, free from the confinement of a bra, her nipples straining through the fabric, the room being colder in contrast from her warm bed.

Both jumped as the loud tone rang out before it switched to white noise, tearing Wheatley from the fascinating view and focusing him on the task at hand before any... _problems_... could arise. He hated that he felt urges to do something to her again, it would've been worse if she found out about them.

Chell gestured to it, with her hand still rubbing her throat, she rasped, "It's time to turn it off!"

"Why? It's just a little static. I kind of like it." He pressed his back to the TV where the dial was hidden from view. The dials were poking into his spine uncomfortably, but he made no show that it was bothering him. She made a move to try and push him and he growled at her, "I said no, it's not going off!"

Chell took a deep breath, irritation building into rage. She was tempted to just break the glass that he wasn't obstructing but decided against it. Breaking Aperture monitors were one thing, but this was _her_ television set. Before she could start again demanding for him to turn it off, a banging angrily began at the door. Hearing the angry man on the other side, Chell gave Wheatley one more glare before she turned to answer it. He watched her walk away, his gaze following her bare legs as she walked. He was focusing on the interesting marks that were left by the long-fall boots when she hastily undid the locks and stepped out the door. He cringed when her heard the neighbor shout at her and her trying to talk him down with her worn voice. With a defeated sigh, Wheatley turned off the tv. He hadn't intended on keeping the neighbors awake, just Chell. He gone to check on her, hoping to apologize before she went to sleep. But when he reached her door, he heard her thrashing in her sleep. She had even whimpered, which was a little alarming since she never uttered a sound in her sleep before. A brainwave hit him. He'd just wake her up. Preferably at a safe distance, where he wouldn't have to tell her he knew she was having nightmare. He should've known it would backfire. Now, she was getting shouted at for his bad judgement.

He briefly pondered how much the neighbor's could hear from them. A loud television, obviously, but otherwise he didn't think he and certainly not Chell produced too much noise. Wasn't too fair that he and Chell never complained about their noise and now they call the _super,_ he heard the man was called, on them. And his howling at Chell wasn't anymore peaceful than that awful static. He couldn't even hear her anymore, leaving him to wonder if she lost her voice completely or just gave up on reasoning with the man. Must be hard to do so in those circumstances, especially after just waking up. While he didn't feel completely guilty that he woke up the people around them, he had a good reason. But the oh so familiar feeling returned knowing Chell was dealing with what should be _his_ consequences.

The former core tiptoed to the door, cracking it open slightly to peer out. First thing he noticed was an enraged middle-aged man barking at Chell. Wheatley had only chatted with a couple of neighbors when he would get the mail before she came home, so he didn't recognize the man yelling at her. But he knew who he was. The neighbors would complain about him not fixing something or ignoring the roach problem or fighting with the tenants. There were a lot of rumors surrounding the superintendent, and Wheatley could see that the rumors about his temper seemed to be very true. And while he wasn't much taller than Chell, she appeared somewhat vulnerable next to him, especially without pants. Wheatley felt his stomach twist, not liking the idea of her being so exposed infront of another, much less someone that was hostile.

Chell jumped in surprise when Wheatley stepped infront of her, blocking her from the man's view, "Actually, you should be shouting at me. It was my fault."

She pushed at his back, urging him to go back inside before he made things worse. He turned his head to look back at her, "It's fine, luv. I did this. Go back... go back to bed and I'll deal with it."

With a huff of annoyance, she went to do just that. If he wanted to get kicked out, then best of luck to him. As long as he didn't get her kicked out too. She was more concerned about his behavior tonight. Perhaps she should have left him at the hospital after all. She couldn't hear the super yelling anymore. She listened intently and could barely make out the sounds of talking, but could not make out the words. A few minutes later, Wheatley came through the door. He looked at her, as if he wasn't expecting to see her.

"Oh, you're still up. Figured you'd be asleep."

Chell scoffed. She _was_ asleep until he decided it best to test the volume on the television set. And she was intending to tell him that, but her strained vocal chords caught again. Wheatley tried to stop her from making another attempt, "It's alright. Don't push yourself, luv. How about a cup of tea? That might help. Tea actually sounds really good right now, I wouldn't mind one myself to be honest."

She shook her head and gestured to the door.

"Oh, what happened with that bloke? Nothing really, I just explained the situation, or tried to, and he just said to not let it happen again. He said a few other things too, but that was more or less it." He answered.

Chell sighed. It figures. Wheatley was very charismatic. He could charm his way out of nearly any situation, providing if one didn't know him very well. She nodded and turned to go to her room before he reached out and grabbed her arm, "Wait!"

While the touch was light, she still flinched and pulled away from him. He stepped back, "Sorry! Sorry. Um, I just wanted to say I was sorry. Not just for... whatever I just did there, but for that thing with the telly. For everything, really. I'm just really, very sorry."

She glared at him before she turned away again and went to her room. After an hour of laying in the dark, she accepted she wasn't getting anymore sleep and switched on the light beside her bed. She then reached for her notebook. Once she completed her latest journal entry, she got dressed and gathered the dirty laundry. Checking to see if Wheatley had gone to bed, she gathered the rest of it from the hamper and transferred it to the basket she used to carry it all. It was a little heavy but luckily there was an all night laundromat across the street. Hopefully the chore would clear her head and calm her nerves.

...

 _November 3,_

 _She tells me something, it takes a second to register. It was about running out of time. Did She think I didn't know that? According to Wheatley, the next surprise was two chambers away. He's going to try and kill me, not very surprising._

 _She continued to talk and this time I was paying more attention as I passed through the doors, "I think I can break us out of here in the next chamber. Just play along."_

 _Do I have any other choice? Hoping that she could think of an escape, I stepped onto the aerial faithplate. And was thrown to the side._

 _"Surprise! We're doing it now."_

 _I was trying to catch my breath when I landed in an_ _excursion funnel. I was struggling to maintain my outward calm._

 _"Okay, credit where it's due. For a little idiot built specifically to come up with stupid, unworkable plans that was a pretty well-laid trap." The potato admitted, and I knew acknowledging Wheatley as more than a moron had to have hurt._

 _"You probably figured it out but I don't need you anymore..."_

 _No. No no nonono. I couldn't think as She tried to explain the Co-operative Testing Initiative. I couldn't care less. I just don't understand. Why not just let me go? Wouldn't that be easier than killing me? What difference would it make if they just wanted me gone?_

 _Soon I was pushed out of the funnel and my heart nearly stopped when I saw my landing. Spikes. A platform covered in spikes. She screamed and I twisted in the air, fruitlessly. I felt the impact of the landing before the spikes piercing me. It feels so real. I had dropped the portal gun and Her. I gave up keeping my calm facade, letting my face twist in agony. Unfortunately, a few vital organs were not impaled. This was not going to be quick._

 _I could see screens above me, I could see him. Now more than ever I wished I could break the glass as he started gloating, "Hello... This is the part where I kill you. Kind of bit of a brainwave. There I was fixing these steel plates with spikes before I surrounded the room with them when I thought to myself, 'You know, she'll most likely slink her way out of this.' then it hit me. Instead of waiting to mash you with them, why not just let you land on them. Let your massive body weight do some of the work."_

 _I opened my mouth, wanting to scream. Wanting to beg him to just finish me off._

 _He groaned in annoyance, "Taking your time, aren't you? Figures, really. You take your sweet time with tests, why would you die any faster? Oh well, I hope the fall will do it."_

 _Fall? The platform was shifting, the spikes tugging and tearing at my body. Next thing I knew I was indeed falling. For a few disorienting minutes that was all I was doing. Finally I could see a bottom but I hit before I got a good look. It was softer than expected, save for the debris that pierced me yet again through my stomach. I looked down. It was a bone. But through my stomach?_

 _I looked around my surroundings, waiting to adjust further to the darkness. Orange jumpsuits surrounded me, all covered in dark stains. Then I noticed what was inside the jumpsuits. Bodies. The bone sticking out of me was not my own. I finally screamed._

 _"Are you still alive down there?" I heard Wheatley's voice echoing in the distance, "I originally intended to make a bottomless pit, asking you to jump in it. I was even going to tell you your parents were in it, maybe throw in some boys in the deal. But really, you're not that brain-damaged, are you? A couple of those test subjects might be boys though, I wasn't really paying attention. You didn't think you were the first, did you?"_

 _I'm not sure which hurts worse. The numerous wounds I'm bleeding from or his words. Funny, the sound of his voice had been one of the most comforting things I had known at one time. He mentioned that the co-op bots just finished their first test and I'm grateful I didn't hear his moans. It would've been even more disturbing hearing that sound while I'm surrounded by death. It was disturbing enough that I thought the robot can act and sound sexy as it is. I could hear something. Gunshots and horses. That makes more sense now, thank God it woke me up before I had to face the bone protruding from me or continued to die slowly._

Wheatley reread the entry. Something he never wanted to do before. But those few words near the end grabbed his attention. _I thought the robot can act and sound sexy ._ Did she really think he was sexy? It was more than that. She liked him. He had assumed her nightmares were from the terror of nearly being killed. It occurred to him if that was the case then Chell would be dreaming about Her too. No, this was deeper. This was deep betrayal by someone she cared about. It wasn't that he thought she was indifferent to him. But he did think that she looked at him as a means to escape. Someone she didn't mind enduring for the sake of freedom.

So many emotions were running through him. Fear was one of them. This latest dream was darker than usual. He had a feeling it would be, with the slight disagreement they had earlier. But he was slightly worried about her sanity. He doubted not even She could consider the violent images her former test subject's mind could produce. Then again, she did call the girl a lunatic. The history of the word came to mind. He never kept track with the phases of the moon, he would prefer to avoid thinking about the moon if possible but he was wondering if it could be responsible for some of her nightmares. Another unpleasant thing the glowing orb was giving him.

The fear was overcome with a sense of giddiness. Chell had found him attractive. His voice had been comforting. He'd always thought it annoyed people, especially to her. Maybe he should start talking more. He smiled. She liked him, maybe a part of her still does. It makes sense now. She could have left him at the hospital. She could have abandoned him a shelter. Bloody hell, she could have just killed him. Strangely, that last option wasn't as horrible as the idea of her leaving him. Wheatley had thought she was going to bash his head on the hospital bed during their reunion and he was resigned to it. He also thought she was going to starve him, she had let him go without food for a day or two before. It was a notion that he quickly brushed aside, as she always did eventually feed him. At least until he started trying to make food on his own. Besides, he knew her too well. There may have been times where she thought about killing him but she could not bring herself to do so no matter how poorly she had been treated. Some could say what she did in the beginning was slightly cruel, not always feeding him or avoiding him leaving him alone in a new environment, though it was understandable considering what he did. But Wheatley didn't see it like that. She always came back. She didn't starve him, though the food she did give him tasted horrible. Chell had her own brand of compassion. But what if her allowing him to stay was more than compassion? Wheatley couldn't stop his hopes from rising. The guilt he felt about his inability to control certain physical reactions were fading. He knows about the basics of mating, even feels the itch to. It was a terrifying feeling. Not just because it was so close to the _itch_ back at the facility. But also because it often seemed to center around her. Now he wondered if she felt it too.

And the more he thought about the more he felt somewhat angry. _That little sneak._ Here he was trying to hide and squash his itch in fears she'd find out and abandon him when she most likely had itches of her own this whole time. Clever, trying to make him think she was indifferent or burdened with his presence. Wheatley didn't need much help being human. He did his best to figure things out on his own. He usually learned things from the telly or by reading from her small bookcase. Which was difficult at first since it seemed that humans wrote things upside down. She might occasional explain something. But now that he thought about it, it would've been nice if he had a little more support in being human. A few encouraging words, telling him it was normal to be feeling certain emotions and sensations. He's done what he could to make things easy on her, never asking for a thank you or forgiveness. A little appreciation would be nice. Maybe a proper conversation or physical contact of some sort . He looked down at his arm and saw that the little marks her teeth had left earlier were now faded. He was a bit disappointed to see them go. That moment had been the first time she had touched him since he became human. At least if he didn't count the couple of times when she was angry.

A thought popped up in his mind and Wheatley read the entry over again. What if she wasn't attracted to his human body? He was a devilishly handsome core, if he didn't say so himself. But this body was quiet the contrast. It was ridiculously tall and skinny, and a bit clumsy at times. It _was_ more useful but he was still lacking things she had seemed to appreciate, such as a flashlight. Still, the capabilities he had as a core were useless for Chell in her sleep. Even if she did find his core attractive, that form was always the monster in her nightmares. Wait... It was always his robot self trying to kill her, never him as he is now. Of course, he hadn't tried to kill her as a human. Perhaps he could use this somehow. Again, he read the last few sentences.

 _That makes more sense now, thank God it woke me up before I had to face the bone protruding from me or continued to die slowly._

Despite the way it backfired, she had been grateful to have been woken up. He had just gone about it the wrong way. Wheatley knew she will most likely be more than a little peeved but he had to take the chance. He needed to wake her up in person. Seeing the human Wheatley save her from the nightmare Wheatley just might be the key to convincing her it was over. Logically he is the same robot, just in a different body. But humans weren't always logical creatures, and he acknowledges himself in that mix. Not that logic really mattered now. This could work. Wheatley smiled and closed the journal. He just had to wait till she fell asleep.


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: Thank you guys so much for reading, the reviews meant a lot to me. I want to give a shout out to Suihanki, who encouraged me to write again. She let me share ideas with her and put up with me asking for her opinions. Thanks, Girl! So this is the final chapter, I will post another with parts I cut from the story but spent too much time writing to delete. Enjoy!

* * *

The door opened without much sound from the keys in the lock, letting warmth from the apartment greet the cold woman in the stairwell. It was dark inside, the warm air and scent made her relieved to be home. Even with Wheatley there. This was the first space she felt like she truly belonged. It was hers. Everything about it, the smell, the creaking floorboards, the very essence told her this was her sanctuary. With the door open, she hoisted the laundry basket up and carried it inside, pushing the door closed with her foot. She placed the basket down then sorted through the folded pile before hanging most of her clothes in her closet as did the shoes she was weaing. The rest went in the dresser which also serves as a desk that she keeps next to the bathroom. Thunder ripped through the air and made her slam the drawer in surprise, thinking it another result of Wheatley's strange behavior tonight. Chell laughed to herself. She had forgotten that it was supposed to be raining through out the weekend. In fact, she was surprised she made it home without getting caught in it again. Not that she minded a little rain. But she did take it as a sign.

Weather like this always had a calming effect. She looked over her shoulder to the clock in the kitchen. _2 :44 am._ It wasn't _that_ late and she did have the day off. She could just go back to bed. What are the odds of having two nightmares in one night? Cold November rain started to pelt the windows as if it were agreeing to Chell's train of thought. The idea of sleeping in seemed heavenly. She might even forego her morning ritual of jogging and enjoy a day at home. Come to think of it, she can't remember the last time she's done that. Way before Wheatley's return, that's for sure. That's the only downside she could think of. Being stuck with him all day. But it wasn't enough to dissaude her. She's avoided staying home to keep him at arm's length too much. This was her home, afterall. Besides, after his attitude tonight, it would be wise to not leave him to his own devices.

Removing a set of warm pajamas from the drawer she just closed, her eyes grew heavy and Chell made her way to her room. She did not once stumble in the darkness, knowing the layout of the old loft by heart. She didn't even realize she was walking on her toes, a habbit she had tried to break after walking most of her life in long-fall boots. She stopped at the foot of her bed and dropped the articles of clothing onto it before she grabbed the hem of her shirt and pulled it over her head. She turned to toss it in the hamper next to the floor-length mirror and continued to undress. Chell stared at the mirror, searching for something or rather, the lack of something. She stilled. The companion cube's glowing pink heart was usually reflected from where it sat. Seconds ticked by when a flash of lightning briefly illuminated the room...

And the tall figure's reflection from the corner where the cube was supposed to be.

* * *

This was not part of Wheatley's plan. Originally, he was just going to wake her up as soon as the nightmares started but he wasn't sure how long that could take. Chell could wake up too soon or he could come in before she drifted off. After considering these chances, he decided the best way to execute his plan would be to sneak in her room and wait till she fell asleep. Then the moment she seemed to stir, he would gently wake her up with a gentle shake of her shoulders and soft, encouraging words. It was perfect. After she had left (really, who does laundry at this time of night?) he snuck into her room and waited in the dark, after he moved that blasted cube into the closet. It was taking up space. Besides, it always creeped him out, the way humans always seemed spellbound by it. Two and a half hours passed. The notebook was rolled up in his hand. It felt good to feel it bent out of it's usual shape. Finally, the door opened and he could see her enter. His eyes had adjusted to the darkness and he noted she looked like she was already half asleep. It shouldn't take too long for her to enter the dream realm. He just had to stand stock still until then so he wouldn't draw any attention to the corner he was in.

That's when she did something he hadn't anticipated.

Heat flushed to his face as she pulled off her shirt. A part of him wanted to avert his eyes and give her her privacy. After all, she would had turned around for him when he asked. But there was another part, one that wanted her to continue. To remove the rest of what sheilded her from his eyes and bare herself to him. Physically and emotionally. Already he could feel the blood that heated his face rush to somewhere else. She turned around to throw something before her hands went to unbutton her jeans. He was looking at the small of her back to the flare of her hips before his eyes settled on her backside. That was when he noticed how still she had become. It looked like she was staring at the mirror. Was she watching herself undress, perhaps? That's when the room lit up.

She spun around, instantly more alert. Her arms went to cover her chest and she waited till she got her racing heart under control before glaring at Wheatley. He shoved his hand and the journal behind his back. He could see anger quickly filling up her eyes like water in a glass. Panic gripped his chest as he tried to will himself to speak but he couldn't seem get his mouth to work. Chell motioned for him to get out. It didn't seem to register so she did it again.

This time Wheatley understood what she wanted and his ability of speech returned, "I-I'm sorry. I really can explain..."

Chell shook her head, not wanting to hear it. This was the last straw. She sneered and pointed to the door. Though her throat still felt raw from earlier, her words were delivered clearly, "Get out. Now. If you don't leave this room this instant, I will make you leave my home. Period."

Shock, anger or vague horror crept into Wheatley's features and his eyes narrowed, "Y-you're saying you'd kick me out?"

Chell answered simply as if he had merely asked what the time was, "I should have months ago."

It was uncertain to him if she knew that the idea of her abandoning him struck fear into his human heart but he knew she was deliberately trying to scare him. He knew she would never follow through with her threat but that wasn't the problem. The problem was that she would even try to threaten him with this at all. True, he knew Chell was merely trying to get him to vacate her room but it did not stop the anger from buzzing in Wheatley's veins. She had her chance to get rid of him long ago.

Wheatley gave a huff in disbelief, shaking his head, "No. I know you. You wouldn't do that."

"Really?" Her eyes, which were dull and tired a minute ago, burned now as she approached him. She sneered, her teeth bared, "You know _me_?"

Wheatley stared down at the woman who looked as if she were back There, facing Her. She looked dangerous. He wasn't sure if she was disturbed by his unauthorized entry of her room or his words. But surprisingly, he was not afraid. Among the many emotions that were boiling inside him, fear was not one of them. Thunder roared again.

"Yes. I know you."

"Then you should know what I can and will do."

"You wouldn't do that." His jaw clenched.

"You don't know anything about me. I am a stranger to you." She shook her head and took a step back.

"I know you want to believe that. But that's not true." Wheatley took a breath to calm himself of the aggitation building in his chest. His hand squeezed the notebook behind him.

Chell studied his face, her own blank while her eyes seemed to be sizing him up. As if she were considering the effort it would take to dismantle him and wether or not it would be worth it. She spoke, her voice weaker but still holding it's bitter edge, "I will kick you out. And I won't lose any sleep over it."

Wheatley laughed coldly, "Now I _know_ that's a lie."

"You know nothing! We're strangers that live together!" She snapped at him.

For once, after trying for so long to coax her into conversation, Wheatley wanted her to shut up. _Strangers?_ A stranger that once saved her life? Strangers that had huddled together, her around his core, trying to get a few moments of rest before they tried face Her? A stranger that tried to kill her? He spent four years in space pining away for the chance to apologize to a stranger? After this past year of living with her, she had the nerve to call him a stranger? He wanted her to stop using the word she had already used twice now. He wanted her to stop treating him like he was a stranger. He wanted her to listen to him almost more than he wanted her to stop covering her bra-clad chest. He wanted _her_. Even with her infuriating words, he could still feel his erection start to throb. He growled in frustration and squeezed the journal one last time.

There was movement before something hit her feet. Again a flash of lightning filled the room and she could see the object he had thrown infront of her clearly. Her journal. A sick, cold feeling drenched her. Surely he didn't read it. He couldn't read. Could he?

"Like I said, luv, I know you!" He shouted, similar to when he was in the chassis during their last battle, "Yeah, great book. Better than Machiavelli, it was!"

Chell stood frozen, her eyes still locked on the notebook. He moved closer, standing an inch away from her.

"Won't lie, I'm a little hurt. I may not know what's going through your head half the time but I know you! You won't kick me out. I'd never leave but that's not the point. Deep down, you want me 'ere. After all I did and all those little dreams of yours, you still want me here and and we both know why!"

It was clear Chell was at a loss. Her body was locked in place while her mind searched for a way to regain control of the situation. She continued to stare at the worn notebook, as if it would give her an answer or apologize for it's betrayal. But she knew it was her fault. Why did she not throw it away when he came back? It wasn't as if writing prevented the nightmares. Her mind scrambled to remember everything she had written down, what he may have read.

She refused to meet his eyes which were boring into the top of her head as he continued his rant, "I've spent so much time studying you and your moods, in and out of Aperture. I know you better than anyone ever has. I'm a bloody Chell expert! Your whole cold and unfeeling act is a, wot-is -it-called, a _defense_ mechanism! I know you... And if it were up to you, nothing would change from the day you brought me home. You'd keep trying to ignore me and your feelings for the rest of our lives. No matter how much it 'urts. You're bloody tenacious like that, aren't you?"

Chell's eyes burned, but she successfully managed to fight back the tears. She wasn't sure if his words had struck true was what was causing emotion to form a lump in her throat or the fact he had been observing her so intently and she had failed to notice. She had let herself be weak in front of him... She couldn't even tell if it was anger or sadness and if it was directed at him or herself, so many emotions were blending in to each other, getting tangled like a ball of yarn. It was the anger she was trying to hold on to. Anger is what she needed.

His fingers went to her chin and forced her eyes to meet his, his voice had gone softer but familiarly husky, "Which is why I have to take charge."

Wheatley leaned down to rest his forehead against hers before he sighed, "Now here's what's going to happen. Just a little brainwave. A little bonding exercise would do us both some good, I think."

The hand that wasn't holding her chin stroked the strap of her bra, "So you're going to take these off. And I'll take off mine. Then you're going to get in that bed. I'll explore your body for a bit, get familar. You can exlpore mine if you like, in fact, I'd enjoy that. Then... well, I think you probably know where I'm going with this. Any thoughts?"

His touch was like static electricity, she could goosebumps rising on her skin. She could also feel her nipples tightening and a jolt travel to her groin. Chell knew that being in a human body Wheatley would have needs. She does the laundry after all, she's seen the stains on his boxers and sheets. Plus, he's not exactly quiet. And she did wonder what could have aroused him, if anything. Perhaps the thought of a female sounding core like the curiosity core or a computer of some sort. She didn't know much about what robots liked and might find appealing. But the idea of him finding any human attractive, much less her never crossed her mind. But there was no denying it now. Not with his words still echoing in her head and a hardened part of him pressing against her stomach.

The more she focused on his words, the more she recognized the tone in his voice. _The Itch_. Now she understood clearly what exactly he had her doing to him when she was solving his tests. Finally, she could feel her rage that she had been desperately trying to hold onto triumph against both her other conflicted emotions and her body's own lust.

 _How dare he?_

How dare he not only invade her space in such a blantant manner but also make demands of her. To speak to her as if his betrayal was just some minor incident, a footnote in their past. Did he think she would just _literally_ lay down and obey? He tried to _kill_ her for God's sake! The hand on her chin traveled down her neck and traced her collar bone. The touch was the spark that ignited an explosion within her. Chell hissed and lunged at him, shoving him into the wall. Aging plaster cracked upon impact with his head. Wheatley winced but before he could utter a groan, Chell's hands wrapped around his throat. Fortunately for him, though his neck was just as skinny as the rest of him, her calloused hands were too small to strangle him effectively.

It was a blind rage that Chell had never known. It overrode her logical, puzzle-solving mind. Without that reason, she was acting solely on impulses. And one of those impulses wanted to tear his skin and she obliged it by raking her nails down his face. This time Wheatley was able to make a pained noise. It wasn't enough. She wanted to hurt him more. Her face lunged forward and her teeth latched onto his neck, the closest thing her mouth could reach.

It did hurt, Wheatley noted, but the arousal seemed to fave dulled the pain. He was mainly worried about her being able to do some serious damage to his jugular. But he did not move to stop her. This needed to happen. She needed to vent her anger and pain over his betrayal, something that had been repressed for far too long. He would take her wrath, without question. He's going to let her have the control she needs for a bit longer, until the rage was out of her system.

It was strange to him, with how she was as intelligent as any computer, was how feral she could be. And how it didn't bother him in the least. Rather the opposite. It did briefly disturb him, once as a core. He had judged defected cores like the Adventure Core that did not care about what species they were hitting on. Humans and artificial intelligences just shouldn't mix outside of working together for science. At first he told himself that his fondness for Chell was for that of a team mate working toward a goal, her's being freedom and his control of the facility. Then acknowledged that he saw her as a friend. Then he felt his interest in the human had been bordering taboo. At least now he was in a body compatible to hers, so it couldn't be considered bestiality.

Moments went by, the sounds of thunder and rain began to blend together. Chell's attack continued, her scratching and biting at anything she could reach. She was growing tired. The lack of a decent's night sleep was taking it's toll on her stamina. Her teeth managed to catch his chin and bottom lip. With a grunt of pain, Wheatley shook himself from her mouth before capturing lips with his own. It was forceful, their teeth pressing hard behind their lips but the want was easily conveyed. Chell felt a shiver through her body and the dissolving line between animosity and desire faded completely.

He could sense the change, her fury fading fast. Now she was pressing herself against him. Her leg managed to hook itself around his hip. He grabbed hers and held them against his own. She moved, rubbing against his erection. Wheatley gasped at the sensation. The sound effected her more deeply than the pained ones she had produced from him earlier. She moved her hips again, letting herself enjoy the sensation. His kiss was stiff at first then a bit sloppy. He had only ever seen humans kiss on the telly and once in Aperture, an event he was scolded for by the scientists he had interrupted. But he soon began to mimic Chell, letting his tongue trace her lips before flicking it against her own.

They stayed like that for several minutes, grinding against each other and focusing on each other's mouths. While Chell seemed to be enjoying herself, the throbbing in his manhood became painful for Wheatley. His hands were pulling at her bra. After a couple unsuccessful attempts, she pushed herself away from him and finished undressing. She didn't realize how wet she was until the air hit her wet thighs. He in return was hastily removing his own clothes, nearly tripping over his underwear.

Before Wheatley could study and praise her naked form, Chell was pulling him to the bed before shoving him down on it. There was nothing more urgent than having him inside her. She crawled on the bed, her eyes regarding his size. She had seen him nude before and noticed his generous size then; now he was larger, fully erect and a bit curved up towards his navel, pre-cum glistening the head of him. A flush of excitement and a small hint of shame rushed through her as she knelt over him. Wheatley sat up so he could reach her. He bit back a moan when he felt her hand stroking him before placing the tip of him at her wet folds. Then nothing.

Chell felt suddenly apprehensive. Not so much of the fact she couldn't remember her past experiences, if any in this area. But mostly from the fear she would wake up in the morning to realize she made a horrible mistake. This was crazy and she knew it. She stayed still, not sinking down onto him, trying to catch her thoughts while ignoring Wheatley's pleas. The fleeting thoughts were scattered when Wheatley thrusted upwards into her half way. Chell hissed at the sudden intrusion and grabbed his shoulders. She sank down, letting the rest of his length ease in.

Wheatley, as expected, could not remain silent as she adjusted around him, "Man alive... your port is so hot and wet. And _tight_."

She gyrated against him and shivered as it drew out a deep moan. The instincts that Wheatley had come to appreciate told him more movement was needed. While the former AI had only known the science of intercourse before, his human body seemed to know what to do. Holding himself up with one arm, he wrapped the other around her backside before she moved, raising herself up before sliding back down. He moved with her, both falling into a rythm, moaning to her between laboured breaths, "Ohhh... wow... I'll be honest, luv... I've been wanting to interface with you for quite some time."

Her breasts swayed, catching Wheatley's gaze. Why were these so fascinating? He couldn't completely blame his human body as he did notice them back at the facility when she was jumping around. Though they did seem to interest him more now. Chell's back arched when his mouth found a nipple. It aided to the mounting pleasure and she nearly lost her balance. She grabbed his shoulders again, muscles clenching around him as she shuddered in bliss. He released her nipple to praise her. She could feel her orgasm building and she let one hand travel down, seeking that swelling bundle of nerves where they were joined while she dug her nails into his shoulder with the other...

It took her by surprise when Wheatley flipped them over to her back, pinning her hands next her head. His eyes were dark with desire, breathing heavy and she noted with wonder how much his human movements matched his old sphere's when he was testing her.

He smiled at her dazed reaction and breathed in her ear, "It's my turn to solve a test."

He released her hands to lean back and grab her hips, sliding out till just the tip remained before thrusting in hard. Chell cried out from the strength behind it, her back arching again. Wheatley was trying to reign himself in, afraid he would hurt her but he had never had much self-discipline. And after a year of built up sexual tension, he really didn't have any left. His thrusts were hard at first but soon they slowed to a gentler, sensual pace. Chell's hands twisting in the sheets, were soon pinned again when she moved them. Perhaps he was afraid she would scratch him again. It was strangely erotic to her, her movements being limited to where she could only wrap her legs around him and enjoy the sensations as he was thrusting deeper into her. She was _so_ close.

Wheatley realized he was wrong about how similar this and testing was. This was much more intense and raw. And it just keeps building. But it makes sense in a way. Everything was simulated as a core. Pain and pleasure. _This_ , he thought as her muscles tightened around him, was the real deal. He couldn't wait for the solution, which would be coming soon. As badly as he ached for it, he needed to hold it off a bit longer. He wanted to solve her first.

He nuzzled the crook of her neck and his eyes fell on the scarring on her neck and shoulder. _That bloody stalemate trap._ The twinge of guilt nearly interrupted his pace. He kissed her neck, his lips and tongue dragging across the burns. Humans licked their mate's wounds, right?

A shudder of pleasure ran through Chell. She moaned and rolled her hips in response.

Wheatley felt the vibrations from her throat on his tongue. He spoke into her skin, "Brilliant."

He released her hands, his own caressing her face and hair. Their lips met again and her ragged breath briefly fogged up his glasses. It reminded him of the way her breath had fogged up his optic when she inspected the crack in it. Though this was much more intimate and erotic.

Chell felt like she was being wound up, tighter and tighter. She was rolling her hips as much as she was able, feeling him reach places her fingers never could. It was the sweetest aching she'd ever known. And to think it was _Wheatley_ that was doing this to her. A clumsy man that spent most of his life as a metal ball. She wondered if it would feel like this with anyone else. If she had gone out and picked some one up for a one night stand, would she react the same way? The thought of doing this with anybody else seems absurd now. She kissed the scratches and bites she had left on his face. Something about them made her proud, especially the one on his neck. She kissed him under his jaw before taking the flesh between her teeth and sucked, marking him. _Hers._

Wheatley groaned, "Aahh-haha, you little minx..."

"This feels so good, luv," He continued to ramble in her ear, " _You_ feel so good."

She gave a soundless whine, her body tensing up.

He felt this, realizing what was about to happen, began to encourage her "Ohh yes... That's it, Chell. C'mon... let me solve you."

Wheatley was trembling. He wasn't sure he could hold off any longer but he needed her to finish first. He would not be completely satisfied until he saw her reaction to euphoria. He grit his teeth. His voice grew heavier and more desperate, their pace growing more frantic, "You're going to love it, I promise. Just.. _C'mon, you tease_ , don't even _think_ about holding out on me."

His voice and hot breath at her ear and neck tipped her over the edge and Chell felt like she was bursting. She scrabbled at his shoulders, clutching at him as if it would prevent her from being swept away. It didn't work, she was drowning in pleasure. Her body was stiff and spasming. And it seemed to go on forever. It was starting to alarm her and she was nearly to the point of begging for the euphoria to stop. Was it possible to die like this? What an exquisite way to die. She saw white behind her eyes. Her strained vocal chords cried with the release, "Wheatley!"

It was the most beautiful sight Weatley's ever seen. To see his Chell, reserved and cautious, writhing under him in in ecstasy filled him with pride. And _he_ was responsible. _He_ solved her. His lips went to her neck and nipped and sucked as she had done him. Her body gave a small jerk as it was riding out her climax, her muscles milking him. He heard her crying out his name, it triggering something and he let go of all restraint. His thrusts were savage, nearly violent, sending little aftershocks through Chell's tender flesh as he pounded into her. He shouted incoherently as he came deep inside her. He did not stop moving until he was completely spent, collapsing on top of her.

Moments passed by, the storm outside was now a gentle rain.

Wheatley was catching his breath, he could hear her do the same as well as feel her chest rising and falling, breasts pressed flat against his chest. Worried he could be crushing her, he shifted to so his weight wasn't bearing down on her. He peered into her face looking for any traces of pain or anger. She seemed utterly serene. Chell's eyes were closed, basking in the warm rush of well-being. It was more intoxicating than wine. She opened her eyes to meet his.

He laughed, "That was intense, eh?"

She nodded. He nuzzled against her temple, his glasses tapping into her brow.

"I-I can't find any other words for it. It was absolutely incredible. Just outstanding. Okay, maybe I can find other words. And you... that was just really lovely," He rambled in his typical fashion, "D-did you like it?"

Chell gave him a swift kiss on the lips. Yes, he performed very well. She wondered if his body had some sort of cell memory because the idea that a robot-turned-human could be that good made no sense. Then again, this was Wheatley, she never could make sense of him.

Wheatley grinned, his body relaxing and his weight pressing down on her again. His eyelids were growing heavy. He knew engaging in coitus was pleasant, _more than pleasant,_ but he didn't know how good it would feel after. It made him feel glowy, warm and sleepy.

"Wheatley..." Chell's weak voice pulled him back from the brink of sleep.

She removed her legs that were wrapped around him when she felt him start to drift off and gave him a slight shove. He groaned, reluctant to move from between her legs. Chell winced at the sensation of him sliding out as he pushed himself off her, flopping down beside her.

The idea of washing the stickiness from her thighs bounced around Chell's head for a bit before she disregarded it. Showering and changing the sheets could wait till she woke up. She turned to her side and settled. She turned her head when she felt Wheatley shift behind her.

He pulled the covers over them before he took his glasses off and reaching over her to set them on her nightstand. He laid his head down and wrapped his long arms around her waist. Chell supposed he thought that he could just start sleeping in her bed now as if she wouldn't mind. And she found that she didn't. The wise thing might have been to tell him to go back to his cot, then explain in the morning that this was a mistake. But she just didn't have the energy to rebuild the distance she had spent a year putting between them. And she didn't want to. She will never forget what he did and she might not ever forgive him. But she's truly content. Something she can't ever remember feeling before.

Wheatley pulled her to his chest, relishing the feel of her in his arms. He was deleriously happy. The last, lonely remnants from the coldness of space were finally purged from his mind and he finally felt like he was home. He kissed her ear and whispered, "G'night, my love."

Almost imediately he was out, snoring softly. Chell's lips quirked in amusement. She knew his snores would grow louder soon. Her eyes were fixed on the place she used to keep her journal, now occupied by Wheatley's glasses. It felt symbolic. Things had changed in one night. She still wasn't sure how big this change was going to be and that was a little unnerving but she wasn't going to try to figure it out. She was done with approaching everything like it was a puzzle that needed to be dealt with in order to keep control of her routine. She would let whatever was going to happen next happen. Languid, peaceful, and pleasantly sore, Chell closed her eyes and joined Wheatley in a blissful, dreamless sleep.


	6. cutscenes

A/N: Here a a few scenes that I was unsure about leaving in the story but spent too much time writing to delete. Thank you for reading, I'm sorry I can't give you back the time you could have been reading a better fic with.

* * *

 _Ch. 3_

Eating was pleasant. Even Chell's cooking was acceptable even though the meals she makes tastes more like wet cardboard. And while being tired was frustrating, sleep was very enjoyable if done in warm, soft place. He didn't mind the fact that he will one day die much. Had She not transferred him to this body, She would have either let him drift in space forever or just have killed him outright anyway. So all in all, being human wasn't too bad. But there was one thing, one amazing and terrifying sensation. He understands it's purpose. Why and how it happens. It was biology. Science. But what he didn't understand was why it had to feel so familiar. The only difference from the _itch_ was the lack of pure rage that accompanied it. But he feared the next time he caved in and indulged it, which was more often than he cared to admit, that rage would come back.

His first experience with this new itch had started with a curious exploration upon awakening with a part of his anatomy stiff. He then remembered bits and pieces of information on humans that as a core he mostly ignored. It wasn't that different from interfacing, except humans involve their USB cords and ports to exchange their data where as Aperture constructs do it wirelessly. That and human interfacing... _mating..._ was much more innefficient. Inspection of the organ led to strokes. It felt familiar but he couldn't place the feeling just then. The whole incident was pleasant but the results were wet and sticky. Humans really were disgusting, messy creatures. He didn't give it much thought until later. This time he had been thinking about Chell. He had been contemplating how she looked similar after coming back from her little jogs to when she was testing, sweaty with her messy ponytail around her face. Again, in the privacy of his woefully small room, he gave into the urge he had before. This time thinking about her seemed to not only have triggered the response but increased the progress to climax. Especially as he imagined her gracefully sprinting through a test chamber, teasing, dragging out the solution before she finally pressed the button. It struck him then where he recognized the feeling too late. The Solution Euphoria.

Wheatley did not sleep for two days after the discovery. He started trying different things to control the new itch, from cold showers to thinking about disturbing things such as birds and Her. Even going as far as digging his nails into his skin until he bled. Mostly with success. Still, not all the time can he sway the urge. But even though he can't help from thinking about Chell in those moments of weakness, he is comforted by the fact he can solve himself, even if temporarily. And he always repents by reading her journal again.

* * *

 _Ch.4_

The former core tiptoed to the door, cracking it open slightly to peer out. First thing he noticed was a man in his fifties, a tank top clinging to his potbelly that protruded his dark striped robe. Wheatley had only chatted with a couple of neighbors when he would get the mail before Chell came home, so he didn't recognize the man yelling at her. But he knew who he was. The neighbors would complain about him not fixing something, or ignoring the roach problem or fighting with the tenants. There were a lot of rumors surrounding the superintendent, and Wheatley could see that the rumors about his temper seemed to be very true. And while he wasn't much taller than Chell, she appeared somewhat vulnerable next to him, especially in his shirt with no pants. Wheatley felt his stomach twist, not liking the idea of her being so exposed in front of another, much less someone that was hostile. Yes, he knew she was more than able to handle herself, but it still left him with unpleasant feelings.

Chell sighed and tuned out, just nodding as the super chewed her out, "...So now I had to come up here, in the middle of the frickin' night, to deal with you! When any _normal_ person should be sleeping. But you're not normal, are you, you looney?! I didn't hold you working at the police department against you, I've been pretty damn reasonable since you always pay on time, but _this?!_ Waking everbody up! I got things to do tomorrow, you know!"

"Hey! If you're going to shout, do it at me, not her. It wasn't her fault." Chell looked around in surprise to see Wheatley coming up next to her. She inwardly groaned, hoping he would go back inside before he made the situation any worse.

"And who the hell are you?" The super snarled.

Wheatley stepped in front Chell, blocking her from the man's view before answering, "I'm a tenant."

"Oh yeah? I don't remember you, where do you live?"

She gave Wheatley a slight push, eager for him to be quiet. He turned to look back to her and tried to reassure her, "It's fine, luv. It was my fault, I'll deal with it. Just go back in."

Not convinced, she shook her head and pointed for him to go back inside instead. The superintendent was seemingly amused and joined in the interaction, "You heard the man. He's a big boy, he can handle himself."

Chell gave a huff of irriation, clearly unhappy. She threw her hands up in the air before storming away. Fine. If Wheatley wanted to get himself kicked out, then best of luck to him. The door slammed behind her, making Wheatley wince.

The man scratched his nose in thought, before adressing Wheatley again, "That your lady?"

Wheatley nodded. Chell _was_ a lady, and his only friend, so he guessed she was his lady.

"So, you and her live together? You were the one making that racket?"

Wheatley nodded again, confused at the gentler tone the man was taking, "It's a long story, but can I just say I'm sorry? I really am. I didn't want to wake anyone else or make them angry. I mean, I knew she would most likely be angry..."

The man cut him off with a laugh, "Hey, I've been there. If I had a dime everytime me and my old lady got into it, I wouldn't be running this dump."

Wheatley flashed him a smile to give the appearance he was agreeing with him, "Right. So, I apologize again. Now I should probably go in and try to apologize to Chell."

"Yeah, good idea. You still might be sleeping on the couch though," The super leaned in closer before lowering his voice and glancing at the door suspiciously, "I always get mine something, helps smooth things over. Flowers, jewelry. She loves steak. Whatever falls off the back of the truck, if you know what I mean. Next time you call your girl fat, come downstairs and I'll get you hooked up."

"No, I'm never going to call her that again." Wheatley shook his head, shuddering at the memory.

He gave a broad smile and gave Wheatley's shoulder a pat, "Smart man. I had a feeling I liked you. Name's Phil."

Wheatley drew his brows together in confusion. _Smart man?_ Clearly this human was either insane or unfortunately less inteligent than him.

Phil continued, "Don't worry about tonight, but, uh, it would be nice if it didn't happen again. Tenants can be real nosy. Always bitching about something. But hey, if it does, I'll just tell those idiots to mind their own business."

Wheatley nodded and started to back up, desperate to get away from this man and back inside the apartment, "Um, thanks. Really appreciated. Goodnight, and sorry again!"

* * *

 _A/N: I couldn't fit this into any chapter. Set somewhere between ch. 4 and 5_

Only a few of the ancient washers and dryers worked in the small laundromat, the rest sat there waiting for their turn to be restored to working order. Thankfully it was late so Chell did not have to wait to share. There was a man not much older than her, tired bloodshot unfocused eyes watching his clothes in the dryer, a what seemed to be a newly-wed couple who were more preoccupied with each other than moving their clothes from one machine to the next and there was herself busy folding her clothes. Like the other customers, she was in her own little world.

 _Fold. Fold. Fold. In the basket._

The mundane activity settling the ball of anger in her chest and the smell of clean laundry soothing her nerves. She was almost done. She slowed her pace down, not ready to go home. She wasn't ready to face him or the shadows in her room that reminded her of the terror she felt in her sleep. Taking a deep breath, Chell glanced up and at her surroundings, hoping her eyes weren't as bloodshot as one of the fellow customers.

The lights overhead flickered out for a couple of seconds with a buzzing sound before returning back to normal brightness. Chell's relaxed muscles tensed and she spun around checking for danger. He hand was clenched, itching to pull a trigger. Seeing nothing, Chell sighed. It was just the electricity. It was common for the electricity to flicker on and off in the ancient city. Perhaps the fluorescent lighting was what had put her on edge. Then again, it doesn't take much to put her on edge these days. She sighed to herself.

 _Get a grip. Breathe._

Chell collected herself and refocused on her previous task of folding. Again she reflected on her agitated state. Usually she could bottle her emotions in a clam stoic mask. That mask feels as if it is slipping. Was it Wheatley that puts her on edge? It seemed as if she had fallen into a routine, her life adjusting around him. Or perhaps she is just projecting her nightmares upon him. Not that he's completely incapable of doing harm to her.

The nightmares, she thought as she folded a shirt, are getting worse. More and more violent. Purging herself of them on the pages used to help rid her of the lingering anxiety. The notebook had once been a source of comfort. The closest thing to having someone hold her until it passed as she'd ever known. It had been her own type of dream catcher though it did not stop the dreams it listened to them. At least it used to. She was down to the last few pages and writing in it no longer eased her.

 _What if they get even worse?_

The thought sent a nauseating chill through Chell. Could she break? Once after she awoke in a panic, she had found herself at the pantry door where Wheatley slept. She had been following her urge to find human comfort and nearly forgot who the human in question was. She didn't want to trust him. She didn't want him to think she trusted him. It would give him a chance to break it again.

It suddenly occurred to her that it might be odd to let a man who she didn't trust live with her. She had even realized that she had expected to hear his voice, both in and out of her nightmares, for the rest of her life. Spending the rest of her life with someone... someone who had tried to kill her. Whether she wants to keep a suspicious eye on him or just to have a voice to chase the silence away, she has accepted him in her life. A far cry from the hopes she had envisioned a year ago.

Laughing caught her attention, the young woman dropping wet clothes as her husband (Chell assumed) had hugged her from behind while she had been transporting the load to a dryer which had turned into a game of tug-o-war with a wet pair of pants. It brought a smile attempting to tug at the corner of her lips despite the pang she felt in her chest. Yes, she recognized the giddy, excited smiles on their faces. Her own had made a similar smile just this evening.

Chell was a practical woman. All she could ever remember wanting was she was granted that, she didn't want much. A job, a home, food and to never wear a jumpsuit again. Splurging in luxury to her was plants to decorate her home, a cup of cheap wine and things that were cheap but smelled pleasant such as the perfume or candles she found at the market. But companionship? Was something she had been trying to convince herself was a luxury she didn't need. She was strong enough to do without.

But it didn't stop her from wanting it from time to time. It wasn't as if she couldn't have it. She could find someone, a steady relationship. Maybe eventually moving in with them. Or at the very least, meeting a man and going over to his place for one night to satisfy the more physical needs. But as she folded Wheatley's vest it just seemed wrong for reasons she didn't want to think about.

Her thoughts turned to him. What would he do if she decided to go on and try to find a normal life? It wasn't as if he was completely reliant on her. He can do little tasks, cooking and cleaning. And he sometimes he seems to understand social human norms better than she does. Or at least he can act as if he does. But he's rarely been outside her apartment building. He's accompanied her before when he needed new clothes or he bugged her enough to bring him on a simple trip to get groceries. But he has yet to explore the outside world which is vastly different from the one he came from.

The last article of clothing was folded. She hoisted the heavy basket from the folding table and paused as she looked at the cork bulletin board near the exit.

 _He deserves to be locked in a closet or floating in space._

Or so Chell keeps telling herself. She thought about his behavior before tonight. Apologetic. Seemily eager to please. Desperate for conversation. Sometimes he seemed tense, almost haunted. It might be due to being shoved into a foreign, fleshy body after spending his entire existance being metal and circuits. Or he could be scheming something, revenge perhaps. But she knew it was more likely he was scared. He was at her mercy if she chose to get rid of him. It made her wonder. Did he want to stay with her or was it merely because he had nowhere else to go?

Chell didn't know why the idea hurt. But it made her wonder. If he could function outside in the world, get a job and earn a living, would he leave? Would she let him? As much as it hurt (God knows she wished it didn't) Chell acknowledged that perhaps it would be for the best for both of them.

She looked at the bulletin board again and balanced the basket on her knee so she could take a flyer of of it and shoved it in her pocket.

 _HELP WANTED._

She would probably forget about the idea, Wheatley most likely wouldn't be able to hold a job. Dishes had a 50/50 chance of survival in his hands so kitchen staff might be a bad fit for him unless he was cooking. But she wasn't really thinking about him and the job being advertised. Rather it would be an answer for the next time he acts like he has tonight.


End file.
